


A Matter for the Goddess, OR, Babysitter of Themyscira!

by Maculategiraffe



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heterosexual Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Magical Bond, Past Character Death, Slavery, cassie is a little bit of a bitch at first but she gets better, cursing, diana is just mostly really busy, diverges from canon after the events of infinite crisis, hippolyta is a bitch, paradise island is a magical place, spoilers up to and including infinite crisis, the underage and drug use and non-con are background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maculategiraffe/pseuds/Maculategiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Infinite Crisis, Wonder Woman took Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark) back to Themyscira to recover from the Crisis and from the death of Superboy (Conner Kent). Four years later, Cassie has built a life for herself on Themyscira. When Diana, still acting as Wonder Woman, brings back a homeless waif to Cassie's adopted home, Cassie is furious, until drastic action by Queen Hippolyta forces her into a closer understanding of her visitor's demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

I can fly. Not just in airplanes, but the real deal: up, up, and away. And yeah, it’s as great as you think. It’s better. There’s nothing like it: the rush, the wind, eyes watering, hair streaming. You’re not weightless; it’s just that all your weight is _forward_ , like falling with all your strength, falling exactly to anywhere you want to be. Or to nowhere. 

So sitting sedately in Diana’s little glass plane, watching the clouds through the clear walls, is a really special kind of torture. I guess anybody with a window seat and an ounce of imagination probably thinks at some point, _Gee, I wish I could be out there_ , but I’m actually thinking, _Gee, I_ could _be out there._ It doesn’t seem fair that the wind’s only in the _plane’s_ hair, and I’m trying not to kick the weird glass walls while Diana ignores me and reads _Ms._

Instead of kicking, I start counting good reasons to take the glass plane. Diana wants it clear to all the Amazons that I'm there under her auspices, so we have to arrive at the same time, and I’m not good at not wandering off when I’m in midair. Plus, the way my powers were flickering in and out for awhile there, a girl could get used to good old-fashioned airfoil deflection as a means of staying miles up in the air. At least it’s not dependent on a whim from any of the gods of Olympus, who aren't really the people you want in charge of your parachute.

But here I have these shiny _new_ powers from my brother Ares– _greater than anything you’ve imagined_ , he said to me when he made his offer, dangling a hissing and sparkling golden lasso in front of me like I was a kitten. No more depending on daddy dearest, the sperm donor (or whatever gods have instead of normal-person sperm– ichor? Uch) responsible for making me in the first place and making me Wonder Girl in the second, though he was of course _way_ too busy being the king of the gods to follow up with all the women he’d boned and check if they’d produced adorable golden-haired daughters named after doomed prophetesses. Just more fodder for the therapy I’ll probably never get now. I don’t think they have Freudians on Themyscira. They don’t even have penis envy. They use _lassos_.

Anyway, whatever, I’m over the whole dad thing, mostly. But Ares had to know when he asked me to own him as my brother that he was asking me to deal with a lot. And when I agreed, he gave me more to deal with: power like I'd never had. He pumped it in me till I was sick, and I loved it so much it felt like cheating, like I was juiced: so strong, so fast. I took it– to save the world. 

It didn’t work. The world got saved, but I didn’t do it. That was Conner. I couldn’t even save _him_.

Diana’s flipping pages now, impatient. She only bought the damn magazine because it had her picture on the cover. Okay, so would I, but don’t know why she actually thought she could _read_ it without getting antsy and starting to mutter about privileged little whippersnappers. Any minute now she’s going to go off on her rant about how back in her day fighting for women’s rights meant cutting off your own breast so it didn’t get in the way of your bow arm. Talk about your first-wave feminism. 

I should have flown by myself, whatever she said about not showing up uninvited. I can take care of myself. The lasso’s still sizzling beside me on the seat, and I’m sizzling, too, sitting here, when I could be out _there_ , for one last flight. Last, before I kneel down and publically pledge my fealty to Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty– who’s always been a little too close to Ares, god of bloodlust and battle, for their own or anyone else’s comfort. Last before I get the complete powerectomy I have to have if I want to stay on Paradise Island, which to me sounds like either one of the less screamworthy rides at Disney World or an assisted living community in Fort Lauderdale. 

Maybe sixteen is a little young to retire. But sixteen’s a little young to watch your boyfriend die saving the world, too. Sixteen is pretty fucking exhausted right now. 

Still staring out, I realize I can see land ahead, lush and verdant. Themyscira. Paradise Isle. I wonder if the Amazons golf.

“Diana?” I ask, sounding to my own ears like I’m working up to wheedle an extra bag of peanuts out of the flight attendant.

Her impossibly blue eyes fix on me. She can make you feel like the only person in the world, for a few minutes at least, before she flies away again. And I’m so tired, I just want to climb in her lap and bury my head in her neck. God, I’m so reverting to infancy. 

“What is it, Cassie?” she asks in classical Greek, which I’m going to have to speak from now on. We’ve been practicing. Her lips look like she’s been sucking pomegranate seeds. I find myself thinking that while they may not have Freud in the Paradise Public Library, I’m sure they have Sappho.

“Can I fly down?” I ask finally, in clumsy, thick-tongued Greek. “Just–- from here?”

She looks at me again, closes her magazine. She’s thinking. She’s thinking about me. I wish I knew what.

“Don’t land before I do,” she says.

I nod again. “I won’t.”

She fiddles with something invisible– this plane is so fucking ridiculous, I can’t believe she flies in it with a straight face– and an invisible glass door opens. I hear the _whoosh_ , feel it, the rush and suck of air, flattening my skin against my bones. I moan, just a little.

“Cassie, wait--”

But I’m already falling.


	2. Chapter One: In which I am surprised several times

I'm always a little distracted at the first sight of Diana-- trust me, so would you be, even if she wasn't your mentor and your ex-lover and your best friend and the rest of the dysfunctional bag of tricks. I mean to say she's gorgeous, and about two feet taller than me, and my running jump into her arms, that day in June (month of Juno, goddess of heterosexual marriage and the best argument against it I know of) was about sixty percent happiness to see her, thirty percent determination not to have my head mashed against her perfect breasts, and ten percent reversion to the way I used to jump on my mom when she came to pick me up from daycare. 

She hugged me hard, my feet dangling miles off the ground, and with my chin on her shoulder I spotted the person standing behind her. Though I didn't spot everything, not right off.

" _Hello_ ,” I said in Greek over Diana's shoulder, wiggling like a little kid to be put down, since this wasn't the most dignified position I could think of for meeting new people. When Diana set me down, I looked the stranger up and down curiously. Not many strangers on the island, but I'm not exactly a social butterfly and it wasn't _that_ weird that, even after four years here, I didn't know the girl. 

She was nice-looking, with strong features and close-cropped black hair, and dressed funny. Well, not _funny_ \-- jeans and a baggy T-shirt. I was wearing the clay-stained homespun chiton and lace-up sandals I usually wear, and Diana was wearing her spandex Wonder Woman uniform and bulletproof slave bracelets, so, you know, to each her own. The stranger was skinny, though, ludicrously skinny, and almost as tall as Diana. All in all she gave me a weird feeling. But the really weird thing, the thing that made my stomach drop as we locked gazes, was the expression on her face. She looked like I felt once when my powers went on the fritz for two seconds in midair, like looking down and knowing there's nothing between you and shattering but miles of empty air.

“ _Who are you?_ ,” I asked her bluntly, still in Greek, and then looked at Diana, switching to English. We're the only two on the island who can speak it fluently; it can come in pretty handy sometimes. “Who is she? Why does she look like that?”

Diana got that look she gets sometimes, and I knew she'd done something as stupid as only a terminally noble superheroine with a serious nose for trouble can manage, but I didn't guess. Not even then. Not until she said it.

“Not she,” she said, her big blue eyes-- so innocent, in spite of everything, so fucking innocent-- flicking sideways to the stranger. “He.”

It took me a minute to get it. I mean, I'm not stupid, but this really did beggar belief, even for someone who owned a magic lasso.

“ _You brought a man here_ ,” I said in Greek, staring at the boy. “ _You brought a man to Themyscira. It's finally happened, Diana. You have finally lost your mind._ ”

“Cassie,” said Diana in a low voice, which didn't seem necessary. The kid clearly wasn't from around here and he didn't exactly look like a Classics professor, so Greek would do just fine as a means of rudely excluding him from the conversation. “ _Please listen. This boy’s name is Ian. I knew his mother before he was born, and now I find that she is dead these many years, and her son, this child, is in trouble. Serious trouble. I could not leave him friendless in the world of men._ ”

“ _Everyone in the world of men is in serious trouble, Diana,_ ” I gritted back. “ _That is why they call it the world of men. And this place, our home, is called Paradise Island. Do you know why?_ ”

“Cassie–“

“ _Right. Because there are no men here. I will not hear you, Diana. Get him out of here, right now. He cannot be on Themyscira, and he certainly cannot be in my house_.”

“Look,” the boy said to Diana, in English, his voice husky and unhappy, “I don't want to cause trouble.” 

“It's no trouble,” Diana said kindly.

“ _It most certainly is,_ ” I said in Greek. “ _Trouble is exactly what it is. Also it is lunacy._ ”

“Really, Diana,” he said softly. “If you take me back, I'll be okay.”

“You won’t be okay,” said Diana flatly. “You have nowhere to go. Rob will find you.”

He swallowed and shrugged. “He won’t kill me. I’ve talked my way out of worse than this.”

“ _Who is Rob?_ ” I asked.

“ _Rob is an evil man,_ ” said Diana, her black brows drawing together in a scowl that made me glad I wasn't Rob. “ _He was the boy’s– master._ ”

“ _The boy is a slave? Where did you pick him up,_ Thailand?”

“America,” said Diana. “ _It was not legal slavery. Rob gave Ian opiates and food and shelter, and sold him to others. For sex. Now Ian has run from him, and he has no home, and he is in grave danger. We must offer him sanctuary, Cassie._ ”

" _Opiates_?" I eyeballed Ian’s skinny arms, which, sure enough, were pocked with track marks, and thought carefully about how to express my next sentence in Greek.

“ _You are out of your having-penetrative-sex-with-your-mother mind,_ ” I said, very grammatically. 

“ _Mother will understand_ ,” said Diana determinedly. “ _I am sure of it._ ”

 

****

 

“ _Diana,_ ” said Queen Hippolyta wearily from her throne at the center of the semicircle of glaring Amazon councillors, “ _you know perfectly well that is not acceptable_.”

Ian stood hunched in on himself in the protective, heroic curve of Di's arm, looking down miserably. I almost felt sorry for him– after all he’d been through, and now dragged into the middle of all these tall scary women speaking an incomprehensible language and obviously arguing over him. Scratch _almost_ – I did feel sorry for him. It wasn’t his fault Diana was a lunatic.

“ _This is the sanctuary granted to the Amazons by the goddess Aphrodite,_ ” said Hippolyta, as if explaining to a child. 

“ _It is also my home, Mother, and Ian is a human being in need of help._ ” Di's blue eyes were flashing. “ _You let Cassie stay when I brought _her_ here, weary and sick at heart_!”

“ _Unwillingly,_ ” said Hippolyta, “ _for the very reason that I knew you would take it as a precedent, my headstrong daughter. But Cassandra Sandsmark had been of great assistance to the Amazons, and to you in particular, and she is favored of our goddess, and _most_ importantly, she is female. This is a man. And he may not stay here. It is too dangerous._ ”

“ _Dangerous_?” Diana demanded scornfully. “ _Look at him, Mother! Any girl on this island could break him in half. A child could do it. Are you so weak that you fear a boy who has suffered the tortures of a damned soul in Tartarus and lives now as a wraith, blinking in the light of the sun_?”

Did I mention Diana can be a bit of a drama queen?

“ _A man need not be physically strong to cause chaos among women,_ ” said Hippolyta, “ _and though I am sorry for his sufferings, they do not make your case stronger. Men who have suffered are very likely to enjoy the suffering of others. I am thinking of his own welfare as well, daughter. How could he live here? He could never understand our ways. He does not even speak our language_.”

“ _He is very intelligent. I have talked to him a great deal. And he is gentle and good. He would never do anything to cause chaos or suffering among us_.”

“ _This is final_ ,” said the queen, with pity in her voice, but no doubt. “ _He may not stay._ ”

“ _I will not take him back,_ ” said Diana, the set of her jaw identical to that of her mother's. “ _It would be murder._ ”

“ _It is a matter for the goddess, then,_ ” said Hippolyta, after staring into her daughter's frighteningly luminous eyes for a few moments. “ _When is her next visit?_ ”

“ _Seven days from now, my queen_ ,” said her little assistant, Phoebe, promptly.

“ _Then Diana must stay at home until then, to guard her foundling and see that he does not come to harm, nor harm anyone else, until the goddess has delivered her edict_.”

“ _Mother, you know I cannot do that,_ ” said Diana, surprised. “ _I have responsibilities in the world outside._ ”

Hippolyta looked really angry. “ _Daughter, have you no sense of what you are asking of us? You would bring a man to our island and then simply leave him here for us to care for? If you intend to force him upon us, someone must guard him at every moment, and what woman on our island besides you can claim to speak the language or understand the world of men well enough to undertake it?_ ”

Diana looked at me. So did Hippolyta.

“ _Oh, no,_ ” I said. “ _No, my queen. I refuse._ ” I glared at Diana, dropping into English. “And _you_ can turn that Mother of All Sorrows gaze off right now. I won't, and you can't make me.”

Ian glanced at me quickly, then looked back down at his feet.

“ _Cassandra_ ,” said Hippolyta slowly, “ _I think you must not refuse_.”

“ _My queen, please,_ ” I began desperately.

“ _No one else is qualified,_ ” my queen said reasonably. “ _It will only be for seven days, Cassandra. If my daughter refuses to return this-- man-- to his proper home--_ “

“ _He has no home!_ ” said Diana angrily. “ _And I will not put him back on the street like a mongrel stray!_ ”

“ _\--and I for one am not prepared to continue arguing with her for a week-- then I must command you, Cassandra, to take him on as your charge._ ”

Diana would have needed better reflexes than Aphrodite's blessing and Amazon training can bestow to dodge the death glare I shot at her then. Unfortunately, looks can’t actually kill, and since I traded in my lasso, there wasn’t much more I could manage. Diana smiled weakly at me.

“ _All right,_ ” I said, trying hard not to actually snarl it. “ _As my queen commands. Before you fly away, Diana, can you tell me how often he needs to be injected with opiates, or shall I wait until his eyes roll back?_ ”

“ _Don’t be a bitch,_ ” said Diana. “ _His body is clean of opiates, and was so before I found him. He is a brave young man, and was determined to free himself from bondage._ ” She turned to Ian, switching into cheery, reassuring English. “You're going to stay with my friend for a few days, Ian. Just until we can come up with something more permanent.”

“More permanent?” I echoed incredulously. “You mean until the goddess arrives and makes you take his butt back home? Hi, Ian. Cassie Sandsmark.” I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you. I'll be your babysitter for the next week.”

He hesitated, then took my hand nervously. “Ian Candy. Thanks for–”

I started to drop his hand, but he wasn't letting go. I glanced at him, surprised, and saw he looked puzzled and a little scared. He wasn't the one not letting go, and neither was I. I looked at the queen. I was right. She had drawn herself up– or actually grown taller, I wasn’t sure– and put on the full High Priestess of Aphrodite aspect: faint crackling glow, awe-inspiring beauty, the works. 

“ _Cassandra Sandsmark, citizen of Themyscira,_ ” she said to me, “ _do you accept authority over the movements of this man for the period that he shall remain on this island?_ ”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered, incurring the Priestess Eyebrows of Doom. “I mean, _I accept it_.”

“ _And do you, male foreigner, accept this woman as our representative and consent to submit to her authority for the period that you shall remain on this island?_ ”

“She's asking if you agree to behave yourself while you're living with me,” I said under my breath to the kid. “Say 'sugkatithemai.'”

“ _I consent_ ,” he parroted automatically.

Blue lightning crackled around our linked hands, and he jerked his away, obviously freaked. I wasn’t feeling precisely serene about it myself as I whirled on Hippolyta, who was looking slightly shorter and extremely smug. There was a murmuring from the circle of Amazons, sounding like the appalled chorus to a Euripedes play.

“ _I have invoked the power of the goddess as a safeguard,_ ” Hippolyta said, not at all helpfully. “ _Let us test the mettle of my binding. Give the foreigner an order, Cassandra._ ” 

“ _An order?_ ” I repeated, goggling at her. 

“ _An order,_ ” she said coolly. “ _An instruction._ ”

“Excuse me,” said Ian politely, “but what the fuck just happened?”

“I'm not sure,” I said. “ _What kind of an order, my queen?_ ”

“ _Something that he would not readily obey, given his choice_ ,” she said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. I gaped at her.

“ _Mother–_ “ said Diana, and when I looked at her I saw that she was pale. “ _What have you done?_ ”

“ _I have safeguarded us,_ ” the queen said, all imperial dignity. “ _Cassandra, order the man to kneel and kiss the ground._ ”

I squinted at her, then turned to Ian. “Sorry. The queen’s acting weird. Just– kneel and kiss the ground.”

I expected him to ask why, or give me a weird look at least, but instead he dropped instantly to his knees and laid his lips to the ground, then jerked his head up, staring at me with astonishment and the beginnings of panic.

“Wait,” I said, looking at Hippolyta. She’s never bothered to learn English– the language of the patriarchy, she calls it, like classical Greek _isn’t_ – but I’ve said what I said next around her often enough and in an expressive enough tone that she gets the gist. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I can’t stand up,” said Ian. “Diana? I can’t–“ 

The queen glared at me, ignoring Ian, and Diana, whose hands were pressed to her mouth as if she were about to throw up. “ _You have accepted the responsibility of his care, and I have ensured that he will keep to the agreement. I fail to see the problem_.”

“Look, it's okay,” I said to Ian, still staring at Hippolyta. “Um. Stand up.”

He scrambled to his feet. “Was that– what happened there, exactly?”

“Spin around once,” I said, and he did it, looking at me now like I was the most horrifying sight he’d ever seen. It made me feel sick.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Sorry. I’m really sorry. She, um, did a– a spell– without telling me. But it's cool. I won't make you– I mean, I won’t do that again.”

“You won’t make me what?” he demanded wildly. “What _else_ could you make me do?”

“Forget about it,” I said, trying to calm him down, and his face went blank for a moment, then blinked at me, disoriented.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I think I just-- what did you say?”

“I was saying forget about it, I won't– oh, fucking hell!” I turned furiously on Hippolyta. “ _I telled he not to concern him of the matter,_ “ I shouted– my Greek grammar tends to suffer when I’m upset– “ _and he_ –”

“ _Forgot?_ ” said Hippolyta, with what I considered to be completely inappropriate satisfaction. “ _We are well warded. The man may stay._ ”


	3. Chapter Three: In which it is apparently Take Your Charge To Work Day

The royal council sort of degenerated after that. Diana was screaming at her mother, and several of the Amazons started arguing back and forth about precedent and men and the ancient laws. None of it mattered, anyway– the goddess would make her decision once she arrived, and that would be that– but they were making a lot of noise, and I have trouble understanding such high-frequency Greek. In the middle of it all, Ian looked ready to faint. Without thinking, I hurried to him and put an arm around him. He was about a foot taller than me, but so skinny I could steady him without any kind of super strength at all.

"It's okay," I said to him, and started to add "don't be scared," but wasn't sure how I felt about saying something like that when he'd actually be compelled to obey. Instead I gave him a quick reassuring squeeze while I tried to remember the word Hippolyta had used for _foundling_ and the word Diana had used for _bitch_ , strung words together mentally, and produced at the top of my lungs, " _Diana, stop bitching and comfort your foundling_!"

All of the Amazons fell silent at once, staring at me. I found myself supporting most of Ian's weight as Diana hurried over to us.

"Ian, it's all right," she said softly in English, steadying him. He was white as a sheet, and clung to her as if she were his mother. "In seven days, the goddess will visit this island, and we'll get this all sorted out. I'm sure she'll be understanding. And in the meantime, Cassie will take good care of you, won't you, Cassie?"

"Sure," I said. "It's okay, Ian. Don't worr– I mean, nothing to worry about. We'll stick together. How's America? I haven't been back there for a few years."

"Increasingly totalitarian," he said weakly, and I was startled into a grin. "But the Sox did finally win the Series."

"That I did hear about," I said, as Diana gently peeled off his clinging hands. "We'll get along, kid."

"I have to go, Ian," said Diana softly.

He looked up at her pleadingly. "Right now?"

"I'm afraid so," she said, "before I say something to my mother that I will regret later. You are in good hands, dear child." She kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"Come on, Diana," I said in an undertone. "You bring the kid to a crazy mythical island, at least show him around a little before you take off."

"You do it," she said, and then in Greek, with a cold look at her mother, " _It is you he must obey._ "

"On second thought," I said quickly, "have a nice flight." 

 

I didn't know what to do with him, so I finally just took him to work with me, hoping my little apprentice, Anthea, wouldn't be there. Yeah, I've got an apprentice-- I've been here that long, now. Yeah, she's a head taller than me, even though she's only fifteen. I can still call her "little". It's not the size that counts, it's what you do with it. 

It took me a while after I moved here to find what Diana referred to as a "vocation." The way I saw it, I'd already retired from my vocation; I was more looking for a day job. Either way, Diana thought it would help to have something constructive to do-- take my mind off Conner, give me a place in the community, all that. Keep me out of her hair was what she meant. There's plenty to do around here-- farming, spinning, weaving, sewing, smithing, all the pre-Industrial Age good stuff. We don't miss the internal combustion engine, not with Amazon strength to burn. But I'm not much with the domestic arts, and I stayed in Diana's hair for a while, and in her bed.

I ended up being pretty good at pottery. Yeah, it sounds hokey, but it works for me; it's like making mud pies, but mud pies other people actually want to buy. I've got a gentle, firm touch, an easy dance-floor rhythm on the wheel, and I wedge clay like nobody's business. I have the angriest arms on Paradise Island.

"Ian," I said, once I had him back at the mercifully empty studio, and stopped to think. I wasn't going to say Look or even Listen. No imperatives. "I have to talk to you."

"Okay," he said, looking up at me nervously. I knew he didn't remember the giving-orders thing, so he was probably nervous because I'd been so bitchy about taking him on in the first place. I really didn't want to drop the bombshell I was about to, but I guessed it was better than him finding out the hard way, again.

"Queen Hippolyta-- the scary lady back there?" I took a breath. "She worked this Amazon mojo on you. Well, on both of us. It's-- the thing is, if I tell you to do anything, you have to do it."

"I will," he said quickly. "I won't be any trouble, I promise. I'm really grateful you're doing this. And if there's anything you need me to do, I'll do it."

"Thanks. But, uh, that's not what I meant. I meant she put this-- binding-- on us. It means that you _have_ to do as I say. Everything I say. You don't have a choice. You'll just do it, whether you want to or not."

"I don't think I understand," he said carefully, not looking at me. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I-- um, I'm just going to show you. Okay?"

"Okay," he said warily.

"Hop up and down on one foot," I said.

He did it.

"Okay, stop. Sit back down."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he said, looking like he'd seen a ghost as he automatically obeyed.

"I know." I bit my lip. "It happened earlier, and I accidentally made you do a couple of things, but then– well, this is kind of messed up, Ian, but you were really upset, and I said 'Forget about it.' I was just trying to– but you actually did forget about it."

"What did you make me do before?" he asked swiftly, as if it mattered. I guessed to him it did.

"You knelt down and kissed the ground," I said neutrally. "Then you spun around. And then you– forgot."

He sat silently, taking this in.

"Ian, I'm sorry," I said, and I really was. The look on his face was horrible. "I didn't-- mean for this to happen. But it did, and we've got to live with each other for the next seven days, so let's try and make it work, okay? I'll try really hard not to– to tell you to do anything."

He nodded, still white, and looked down at his hands, which were shaking. I was thinking it was lucky I'd never been given to the kind of invasively bouncy orders that some people bark at you constantly. _Cheer up_. _Don't worry_. _Think good thoughts_. _Smile!_ Ian didn't look much like he wanted to do any of those things.

"I'm sorry," I said again awkwardly. "Diana– she just doesn't think, sometimes."

He shrugged and looked up, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. "Not like I was doing so great on my own. At least here I don't think I'm going to get killed."

"You want to tell me about that?" I asked, aware I was trying to fill the silence. "Diana said you were in trouble with a guy named Rob."

"To put it mildly," he said, looking down at his hands again. 

"Yeah. Tell me– I mean– only if you want to."

He smiled briefly. "Thanks. Diana used that glowy gold rope thing of hers on me when _she_ asked. Never talked so much without stopping in my life."

"She used the lasso on you?" I demanded, shocked. 

"Well, I wasn't talking. I didn't know who the hell she was, and I didn't want to get her in trouble, if– yeah, it's funny, isn't it? There's really not much to tell. Never knew my dad, mom died when I was ten, ran away from my fosters when I was fourteen, and Rob picked me off the street, gave me a roof and a bed and a needle full of smack, and till two weeks ago he was my daddy and my dealer and my pimp and whatever else you're probably thinking. I waited till my eighteenth birthday to break for it. Wasn't going to get sent back to foster care. A couple of my foster dads made Rob look like Mary fucking Poppins. Went through detox, got back on the street, and heard from a few– acquaintances– that Rob was looking for me. Pretty intently."

"Cause he wants to make sure you're okay, right?" I said dryly, and he looked up at me quickly to check if I really was that dumb, his mouth twisting in half a smile when he saw I wasn't. Not quite. I didn't really feel much like joking.

"Happy birthday," I said finally, and then, as he peered at me curiously, "I mean, two weeks ago. Happy eighteenth. I'm twenty."

He nodded without smiling.

"So," I said awkwardly, "are you, uh... gay?"

"Not particularly," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Why, are you?"

"Not particularly," I said, smiling. 

He nodded again. "I sort of thought you and Diana might be–"

"No, no," I said. "I mean, not any more. She kind of, um, took care of me for a while-- she brought me here, just like she did you, you know. But I'm not doing the romance thing right now. Had enough of that on the mainland."

"Is it really all women on the island?" he asked. "Except me?"

"Yep."

"Nice," he said sincerely. 

I squinted at him. "If you're thinking this is your own personal porn palace, it's not. We don't have giant soft-focus orgies in the royal hall, and if we did, you definitely wouldn't be invited."

"I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "I like women. I mean, I don't just mean– I liked my mom. She was nice. And I haven't exactly had great experiences with men."

"Have you had great experiences with women?" I asked curiously. "I mean, other than your mom?" I blinked. "Wow, _that_ came out wrong."

He actually smiled, and I realized what first thinking he was a girl, then the shock of it all, and maybe the misery and fear and pain that had been all over his face, had kept me from realizing before: that Ian was a very, very good-looking young man.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

We both jumped as Anthea banged into the studio, breathless and wired, her cheeks hot from running, and skidded to a halt, staring at Ian.

" _What are you doing here?_ " I asked her, irritated.

" _I work here_ ," she said defensively, starting to circle Ian at a cautious distance. " _Is he really male?_ "

"Ignore her," I told Ian, whose gaze slipped off her instantly and fell to his lap. I bit back a curse. A binding of obedience, all right, but this was ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean– pay attention to whatever you like."

He looked up at her, maybe only to reassure himself that he could. She's a pretty thing. Dark and sloe-eyed, clear-skinned and strong. She stared back at him, fascinated.

" _Can I see him naked?_ " she asked.

" _He is not an animal!_ " I snapped, and Ian flinched, hard. I'm five foot two. I wasn't even yelling at _him_. It made me want to kill someone, though I wasn't sure if my choice would be Hippolyta or this Rob character. "Ian, I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, she's just being stupid." I wondered if I'd ever utter another sentence to the guy that didn't contain the words _I'm sorry_.

He gave me a quick smile, like he was laughing at himself for being so skittish, and I felt a little better. Anthea was walking closer to him, and he sat very still.

"What should I do?" he asked me quietly. "What does she want?"

" _Anthea, stop that._ You're fine, Ian. _Get away from him._ " The constant switching back and forth between languages– and trying so scrupulously to avoid imperatives with Ian while scolding Anthea like the sugar-hyped two-year-old she was acting– was making me dizzy. 

Anthea sulkily went to the table where the wedged clay lay covered with a wet cloth and twisted herself off a chunk. " _What will he do here, Cassandra? Among the Amazons?_ "

" _Mind his own business_ ," I said. 

She stuck out her tongue at me as she dipped her hands in slip and began kicking sulkily at the wheel.

"So," said Ian tentatively. "Diana– brought you here?"

I fidgeted. "Long story."

"I'm told I've got a week," he said, examining his fingers.

"Okay," I said. "I'll tell it, but not now. Anthea's fidgety enough as it is without me launching into a long story in English."

"Fair enough," he said, still not looking up at me. "Can I ask something else? What did she say to make you snap like that? Your eyes practically shot sparks."

I blushed, embarrassed. "Um. She's– well, she's lived on this island her whole life, so she's never seen a man before. She asked– she wanted to see you naked."

He blushed too, to my surprise, and looked up quickly. "Thanks. For not... for..."

"Christ, Ian." I was appalled. "You think I'd do that to you?" 

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said with studied nonchalance.

I swallowed, trying to banish the mental image of a scared, skinny kid (fifteen, sixteen, seventeen) being stripped for curious strangers. Somehow I doubted, too, that they'd all been as pretty and young and... well, female... as Anthea. Not that that would have made it much better.

"I'm not Rob," I told him firmly.

"Yeah," he said, looking down again, and I couldn't quite read his tone. "I noticed."


	4. Chapter Three: In which we experiment

"What would happen if you told me to do something I couldn't normally do?" he asked, that night over dinner. 

I looked up from picking at my overdone spinach– I never have much of an appetite, especially when I've inadvertently acquired absolute power over a complete stranger and had him installed in my home. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite either– at least not for my cooking. I get along, but I wasn't exactly proud to dump the mess I get along on in front of a guest. I appreciated his not whining, though I guessed I should already credit him with better sense than to bitch, considering that I could tell him to eat his own hand and he'd have to do it. 

Honestly, though, he looked like he could use some meat, and I never cook it. I don't so much have vegetarian principles as– considering my natural skill at cookery– I have anti-trichinosis and anti-salmonella principles. Maybe I could get one of the neighbors to fry him a steak or whatever you do. 

He was looking at me nervously. Belatedly I registered what he'd asked.

"Like what?" I asked. "You mean like... if I told you to fly, or become invisible?"

"Yeah, or... well, I was thinking of your language." He got a bit more animated when he saw I was interested. "What if you told me to understand it? Do you think I would? Because, I mean, you said I forgot something on command, and I shouldn't have been able to do that, should I? Maybe it... makes things happen." 

"I dunno," I said, but I was intrigued. "You don't miss a trick, do you? Want me to try?"

"Sure," he said, putting his fork down. "Worth a shot."

I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed the first Greek-language book I saw, which was Sappho's poetry. Heh. "Here, open it up so we know– okay." He looked up expectantly, the book propped open in front of him. "Now know how to read Greek." 

His face changed instantly, interested expectation falling away into pure horror. "I can't!"

"What's wrong?" I said, startled. 

"I'm sorry, Cassie, please, I really can't, please, _please_ –" Tears were pouring down his face. 

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped. "It's okay, you don't have to! I don't– you don't have to understand Greek! Is that– are you okay?"

He was shaking as he looked up at me. "It– thank you– I'm sorry–" 

"Ian, honey!" The same unthinking instinct made me offer the endearment and bend down to put my arms around him, and he leaned against me, breathing hard. "What happened?" 

"It hurt," he whispered. "It felt like... it felt like fucking _detox_ , and at the same time I felt... guilty, like I'd fucking _killed_ someone, I felt like I was going to die if I couldn't..." 

"Oh, God." I stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't– I had no idea it would do that to you."

"It was my idea," he said, muffled against me. 

"I know. We didn't know." 

He looked up at me miserably. "Rob used to– when I pissed him off– when I was jonesing– he wouldn't give me– but this was worse, this was– Cassie, please, I don't care what you tell me to do as long as it's something I _can_ do, but please _please_ even if I piss you off really badly don't..." 

"Ian, of course I won't, don't be... This is so fucked up. Look, are you feeling up to seeing Hippolyta again?"

He pulled away, looking even more scared than before, if that were possible. "The– the queen? Why?" 

"Because I'm not supposed to leave you alone, and I've got a few choice things to say to her about the nature of this _binding_." I spat out the last word in Greek, and he startled, which gave me an idea. 

I said quickly in Greek, "Drum your fingers on the table," and he just looked at me. So he'd only obey if he understood the order– which presumably meant he'd obey the order _as_ he understood it. I guessed that made sense, but... why the hell hadn't Hippolyta explained the parameters of the binding more clearly? And why hadn't I asked before? 

"Sorry," I said, switching back to English. "So will you come with me?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked bleakly.

" _Yes_ , goddammit," I said. "I mean, yes, you do. I just accidentally zapped the hell out of you and you look like death warmed over. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, especially not to see the bitch who put this weird-ass voodoo hex on you in the first place." 

He was still pale and tense, but for a second I thought I saw him smile.

"Okay," he said. "I'll go."

 

" _Aphrodite's bindings_ ," I informed the queen in a perfectly grammatical Greek sentence I had spent half the walk over formulating, " _should come with a sent-to-Tartarus-by-the-gods-for-hubris instruction book._ " 

" _Really_ ," she said, lifting an eyebrow as she set her knife and fork daintily down on her plate. She was dining alone tonight, as I usually did, a book propped open by her plate. I hadn't knocked. " _It seemed a fairly straightforward binding to me._ " 

" _Well, it is not straightforward, my queen,_ " I said, scowling, as she arose and came towards us. Ian moved a little closer to me. " _I ordered him to be able to understand Greek._ "

" _What?_ " The queen looked puzzled. " _How could he obey such an order?_ " 

" _I had already ordered him to forget something. We thought maybe that was– how the spell worked, that it made a thing happen._ " 

" _It is well within the capacity of a normal human mind to voluntarily forget a puzzling incident_ ," she said, as if I were stupid. " _Not so to acquire a new language so abruptly. You should not have used your power so. It probably caused him some distress._ " 

" _Distress!_ " I gestured expressively towards Ian, who looked down. " _He went crazy! Shaking, crying, pleading!_ "

" _Really,_ " said Hippolyta again, interested. 

" _Yes, really! He said it hurt! Look at him, all white and hurt still!_ " 

" _He looks well enough to me,_ " she said. " _The distress ended, did it not, once you withdrew the order?_ "

" _That is not the point,_ " I gritted. " _Why did you– you weaved a punishment into the binding? For what need? Why punish him if he cannot obey?_ " 

" _It is not a matter of punishment, Cassandra,_ " said the queen calmly. " _I am a priestess of Aphrodite, and the bonds of Aphrodite are the bonds of love. Were your father to lay a binding on a young man, it would– and,_ " she added parenthetically and with acid disapproval, " _frequently does– take the form of a physical compulsion to do his will. Were Athena to do the same, the binding would make it appear above all things reasonable, rational and intelligent to pursue precisely the course of action recommended by Athena. Aphrodite is goddess of love and desire, and the nature of her bindings is accordingly unique._ " 

"Oimoi," I said, feeling sick, and lowering my voice even though I knew Ian couldn't understand. " _Are you saying he is in love with me?_ "

" _No, Cassandra_ ," said the queen disapprovingly. " _I am saying that obedience– submission to the will of the beloved– is a natural aspect of love, and to bind to obedience by the power of Aphrodite is to bind to the obedience of love. He does not love you, but his obedience mimics love in that I have caused him to value submission to your commands above all things, even above the love of his own life._ " 

" _That is sick, my queen,_ " I hissed.

She ignored me. " _A corresponding distress at an inability to obey would naturally follow, although I would not have expected it to be so powerful as you describe. Could you demonstrate for me?_ " 

" _No!_ " I snapped furiously. " _You cannot understand. It was– horrible. I promised him not to do it again._ "

" _And yet you come to me seeking advice and, perhaps, remedy,_ " Hippolyta said coolly, " _which I certainly cannot grant without understanding the situation fully._ " 

"Cassie?" said Ian softly. I looked quickly back into his worried face. "Your eyes shot sparks again. Does she want to see me naked, too?"

"She wants me to do it again," I told him in English, smiling a little. "Order you to do something you can't do, so she can– see what it does to you. But I won't," I added quickly. "I said I wouldn't." 

He nodded. "Will she– do you think she might– fix it?"

"Maybe," I said softly. "She said it shouldn't have hurt you as much as it did. But–"

"Then do it," he said quickly, and when I started to protest, "Just... Cassie, will you–" 

"What?" I asked. "Can I do anything to make it easier?"

"Well, earlier, when you–" He blushed. "When you put your arms around me, I felt... it made it.... I'm not asking you to do that again, but if you could be touching me just a little– maybe holding my hand?" 

"Of course," I said, my stomach churning, and went to him, taking both his hands in mine. " _He is willing, my queen, because he is a brave young man. Watch well. I will not do this again. Are you ready?_ " 

The mantle of Aphrodite descended. Ian's grip tightened as the air seemed to heat up slightly around us. " _Speak, Cassandra. And do not withdraw your order until I give the word._ "

I looked into Ian's eyes. "I can't stop it once I start, not until she–" 

"Do it," he said fiercely.

"Turn yourself invisible."

Tears instantly welled in his eyes and spilled over. He was trying to control his face, but it was bone white and anguished, and his hands were so tight on mine that I winced myself with the pain. 

"I can't," he said. "Please, I really can't. Please. Forgive me. Please, I'm sorry, I would if I could, I want to, I just, please, oh, Jesus Christ, _please_ , Cassie–" His voice was building to a scream. 

" _Make him be silent_ ," the queen said briskly, as blue lightning crackled gently in the air around Ian and me.

"Hush," I said softly, looking into Ian's tear-blurred green eyes, and his voice cut off in mid-entreaty as if I'd hit the mute button, his face twisting in agony. In another second he was on his knees, his hands still tightly held in mine, his head bowed low, his nails digging into my hands. 

" _Enough_ ," said Hippolyta after a few more eternal seconds.

"Ian, _don't_ turn yourself invisible," I said loudly and clearly and so fast it all sounded like one word. He sagged in my grip, shaking silently. 

"And make as much noise as you want!" I added, dropping to my knees and yanking him into a fierce hug as the sudden noise of his retching and sobbing hit me like a slap. He wept, choking, on my shoulder while I clutched him to me, wishing my eyes could _actually_ shoot sparks at Hippolyta, who had gotten shorter again and was staring at us pensively. 

" _That should not have happened_ ," she said.

" _Most perspicacious, my queen,_ " I gritted. "Ian, sweetie, are you okay? Say something."

"Something," he gasped, and I didn't know if he was being snarky or just perfectly obedient. "Tell me I'm okay, please, Cassie, tell me I did well–" 

I swallowed hard. "You did well. You did– amazing. You were so strong and– and brave, Ian."

" _What did he ask of you?_ " Hippolyta demanded, as Ian sighed softly. " _What are you saying that soothes him so?_ " 

I translated irritably, Ian lying still and relaxed in my arms. Hippolyta's eyes widened, and she muttered something under her breath.

" _He must be a particularly susceptible subject_ ," she said out loud. " _Perhaps more than usually fearful of the displeasure of an authority figure–_ " 

"Oh, you think?" I snarled in English, and Hippolyta poked up an eyebrow at the same time Ian looked up, his face wet with tears. "Hey, don't tell me. Shooting sparks again. Sorry. Not at you." 

As I rocked him– that motion must be born into women, I've seen babysitters do it with kids they didn't give a shit about if the kids had bumped their heads– Hippolyta came and knelt down beside the two of us. She placed a hand on my head and I felt a gentle crackling as she used the power of Aphrodite to read my responses. There was plenty to read right then, too. I'm surprised her little Geiger counter or whatever didn't shoot sparks itself. 

" _You, too, child..._ " she whispered. " _Either my powers are greater than I ever knew, or– I must speak of this to the goddess when she descends._ "

" _What about now_?" I demanded. 

" _Now?_ " she repeated absently, then looked up at me. " _Now you will take him home, and look after him until the goddess arrives. Was that not the charge you accepted?_ " 

" _But, my queen–_ " 

" _You will not damage him,_ " she said more gently. " _Not more than he is damaged already. Go, my child. And if his distress pains you so, instruct him to forget all that has passed here. You will find him willing enough._ " 

" _No,_ " I said between my teeth. " _He is not an-- an_ Etch A Sketch, _my queen, for me to shake him and undo what has been done._ "

" _What is an_ Etch A Sketch?" Hippolyta asked, puzzled.

Ian suddenly gave a damp, choked, brief laugh. 

"I still don't understand anything you're saying," he said, "but there's a Greek word that sounds an awful lot like 'Etch A Sketch.'"


	5. Chapter Four: In which the evening and the morning are the first day

I thought at first that I was going to have to carry Ian home, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to do that without my powers, but he rallied pretty quick, considering. I kept my arm around his waist, though, as we walked through the falling dusk. It was a coolish night, with a bit of a breeze, crickets singing; the weather here is pretty much always perfect, courtesy of the goddess, and the grass felt good on my feet, between the straps of my sandals.

It was funny, having my arm around a boy's waist again. Ian was wiry and skinny and wobbly; it was kind of like walking an animated scarecrow home. If you'd just put the scarecrow through minutes of pure detox-plus agony with spooky powers acquired from the evil queen so she could study his responses. 

I always used to say somebody should make a movie of my life, but in my mind it would have ended once Diana's plane touched down on Themyscira. _Wonder Girl 2: Trainspotting in Oz_ didn't seem likely to be a blockbuster.

"I'm really sorry," I said eventually. 

"It's okay," he said, and cleared his throat. "I asked you to do it."

"I know, but-- I mean for everything," I said. "For this spell and stuff. You've been through enough."

"Haven't you?" he asked, and I looked up at him, surprised. He was smiling a little. "I mean, there's a long story I haven't heard, but I don't see a girl like you giving up the world to come here and throw pots, if there weren't some good reason."

"Yeah, well, sixteen might have been a little young to expect that nothing exciting would ever happen to me again." I was most interested in the fact that he knew the term _throw_ for what I did. "You're a potter?"

"No," he said, "but I read. Do I get to hear the story or what?"

"Sure." I considered. Plot synopsis for _Wonder Girl Vol. 1: Tales of a Plucky Blonde Sidekick_. "Once upon a time there was a little girl named Cassie Sandsmark, who lived with her mom, because her dad was the king of the gods."

"Your dad is who now?" said Ian.

"Zeus. Jupiter. Jove Himself. King of Olympus. Ruler of the sky."

"You're kidding."

"That's what _I_ said," I said truthfully. "Not that he even bothered to tell me, the first time he met me. Granted me superpowers, sure, but he managed to leave out that one tiny detail. I didn't find out until after I'd already joined Young Justice– which I only did because I had a crush on Superboy, by the way. _Never_ join a teen superhero league because of a boy." 

"I thought you weren't going to give me orders," said Ian. I pulled away and looked up at him; he was smiling, slightly. 

"Sorry," I said, as seriously as I could, "but that one stands. I'm looking out for _you_ , kid."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smirking a little. "May I join a teen superhero league because of a girl?"

"That one's your call." I watched him for another second, liking his smile, before I kept going. "Anyway, Young Justice broke up after Donna– my friend Donna– well, my mentor really; she was the first Wonder Girl–" 

"The first Wonder Girl?" Ian repeated. "There's more than one?"

"I was the second one, yeah."

"You're _Wonder Girl_?" he demanded, and I realized I was taking way too much for granted, here. Like that Diana would have bothered to even sketch in the picture for him before she dumped him off on me.

"Was," I said. "I'm retired. Well, re-retired. First time I gave all this up was after Donna wiped out and Young Justice broke up. But then, because Superboy was there and I was a teenage girl and had zero impulse control, I joined the Teen Titans. Which is when I finally found out who my dad was. And my brother-- Ares. He's the one who gave me my powers-- back. After my dad took them away." 

"Ares?" Ian repeated. "That's a Greek god too, right?"

"Of war. He's not so bad, though. Not that I'd say that where the Amazons could hear– he's their big nemesis. I had to renounce all the powers he'd given me before Hippolyta would let me come live here, and even then I don't think she'd have said yes if Aphrodite hadn't interceded for me." 

"Aphrodite?"

"You know," I said, smiling a little. "The goddess."

Ian nodded. "The one whose priestess put this-- thing-- on me?"

"Well, yeah," I said, my smile fading as I thought about what Hippolyta had said, about the nature of Aphrodite's bindings, and the submission of love. I didn't really want to think about that in any great depth, anyway. "She's the patroness of the Amazons. Goddess of, you know, love. I think she liked me because of the whole Conner thing." 

"Cassie," said Ian, "did anyone ever tell you you _suck_ at constructing a coherent narrative?"

"Well, if people wouldn't keep interrupting me--"

Ian sighed elaborately. "What whole Conner thing?" 

"Conner Kent," I said, and when that obviously didn't ring a bell, " _Super_ boy."

"Oh, right," said Ian. "You joined the Junior League because of him."

"Young Justice!" Then I noticed he was smirking again, pretty broadly, and I smacked him in the arm, which made him jump for a second before he grinned at me full-on.

"Alliance of Miniature Superheroes," he continued. "Wonder Girl, Superboy, Tiny Batman--"

"Also known as Robin," I said, cracking up. "Shut up. I mean-- oops. I mean-- speak freely."

That slip-up sort of killed the joking mood, and it took a second before I remembered where I'd been in my, okay, not entirely coherent narrative.

" _Super_ boy," I said finally. "He did finally notice I existed, amazingly enough, and we... dated." 

Ian nodded. "Takes one to date one, I guess... So what happened? He still in the picture?"

I looked down. "He, um, he died. Was killed. Saving the world, so that was nice, but still." 

"I'm sorry," Ian said quietly. 

"Yeah," I said, aiming for _so over it_ but landing somewhere in the vicinity of _tell me about it._ "It sucked... pretty bad. I was sort of a wreck. I don't know what would have become of me– I probably would have lost it completely, started building little Superboy shrines and writing on the walls in Kryptonian or something– but my mom was so worried about me that she got Diana to... kind of kidnap me, and bring me here. I mean, I could have fought back, she wouldn't have-- but I was so fucking _tired_." 

"Like me," said Ian.

"Yeah," I said, looking up at him, but he didn't have any particular expression. "Not as bad, though. I bet. And I mean, I'd never been here before, but I'd at least studied classical Greek, I was into all that stuff. Though I've got to say studying it wasn't the same as hearing a bunch of Amazons scream it over your head. They were all kind of freaked by having an outsider here, and Hippolyta was yanking my lasso out of my hand and yelling about how I was Ares' champion and would destroy them all." I glanced at him again. "But at least nobody put an obedience spell on me." 

"Well," he said reasonably, "why would they need to? You seem so naturally meek and submissive."

I squinted up at him; he was grinning again. "Oh, don't you just crack yourself up."

"A little," he said. "Sorry, go ahead."

I was trying not to grin myself. "Well-- they couldn't agree on whether I was going to be allowed to stay, so it was a matter for the goddess. Most of the gods have withdrawn from the mortal plane now, and Aphrodite _mostly_ has, but she still visits Themyscira. We're not exactly the mortal plane, anyway."

"What are we?" he asked. "I mean, you? I mean-- here?"

"We're-- hers," I said vaguely, not really wanting to go into the metaphysics of it. "Aphrodite's. The Amazons are, I mean. But she-- accepted me. I'm hers now, too."

There was a brief silence before I went on, "She said– well– because there was this one night, before Conner died, when we– were together. She said–" 

Suddenly I didn't really want to repeat what she'd said about me and Conner, in case Ian laughed, or thought it sounded creepy, or something. It wasn't funny or weird, but I can't ever say it the way it sounded in her beautiful voice, her odd ornate Greek, her eyes holding mine, her finger under my chin. 

"She said I could stay," I simplified. "So I gave back the lasso, and I gave up my superpowers. I was just-- like I said. So fucking tired. And it's– peaceful– here." 

"Was till I got here, anyway," Ian said. "Sorry about that." 

"Not your fault," I said. "Here we are." I unlocked the door of my little house, fumbled for the matches by the door and lit the little oil lamp, holding it up as Ian followed me in. "Home sweet home."

 

 

Ian borrowed one of my English-language books to read by lamplight at the kitchen table for the rest of the evening, which was fairly short. We go to bed early-- places without electricity usually do-- so it wasn't long before I was yawning over my own book. Ian looked pretty bushed, too. It had probably been one of the longer days of his life.

Actually, given what he and Diana had told me about his past, maybe not.

"I don't have a guest bed," I said as easily as I could, "so you can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the floor." 

"No," Ian protested, startled. "I'll sleep on the floor. I don't mind at all." 

"Well, I do. You're my guest. And I've got way more cushioning on my bones than you do. Don't– I mean, I would appreciate it if you didn't argue." 

He swallowed hard. "Okay." 

"Good. Do you have anything to sleep in besides those jeans?"

"My underwear, I guess," he said, looking down.

"I'd offer to lend you some PJs, but–" I gestured vaguely at our relative heights and breadths. "I do have a bunch of spare toothbrushes, since they don't make them around here. Grab yourself one, they're under the sink. Just let the water run till it's clear first– but it's safe to drink and everything, we have good sanitation. You can take a bath if you want, too, or a shower. I put in the showerhead myself. Soap and shampoo and everything are in there. Diana keeps me stocked up. And razors. Just girl razors, though. I don't know if they work on boys." 

He had gone all red for some reason. "Okay. Th– thanks."

"Ian," I said gently, and he looked up swiftly, expectantly. "I'm sorry I was a bitch earlier, when Diana showed up with you. You didn't ask to get dumped off on a strange island and put under an obedience spell, any more than I asked– but I hope– I'd like us to be friendly. Friends." 

"Of course," he said, still rather flushed. "You're being really nice. Thanks."

"It's no problem. I bet you're tired. Everything's back through there– bathroom and bedroom and all. Make yourself at– I mean, mi casa su casa, okay?" 

He went, with a strange glance over his shoulder, and I heard the shower running, brushing teeth, and finally the creak of the bedsprings as he climbed in. I slept fine on the living room floor. 

 

I wasn't going to wake him the next morning-- I figured he needed his rest, and I'd just leave a note and an attempt at food for him before I left for the studio. I was just starting some half-remembered yoga stretches to get the morning slept-on-the-floor kinks out of my back, when I heard his voice from the doorway.

"Are you, um, trying to do the Salute to the Sun?" he asked from the doorway, with a valiant but failed attempt not to stress the word _trying_. 

"What's it to you?" I'm not a morning person. "Why the hell are you even awake? Why aren't you exhausted? Go back to sleep."

I was barely in time to catch him as he fell, simply, like a marionette whose strings had been cut; skinny as he was, I nearly fell myself under his unresisting weight. _Oh, fucking hell._

"Ian," I whispered, maneuvering him to the floor, his shoulders heavy against my torso. His face was slack, almost peaceful. He'd tried to shave with one of my razors; there were a couple of small cuts on his face, crusted over with blood.

I didn't know what I was going to do if he couldn't hear me to obey me in his sleep. Would he ever wake up? Was it possible I was incapable of having a houseguest for twelve hours without accidentally killing him? 

"Wake up," I whispered, like a prayer.

His eyes flew open and he gasped, bolting upright like the end of a nightmare sequence. "Holy _shit_!"

"I'm sorry," I said inadequately as he scrambled backwards and away from me, staring at me, his eyes huge. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-- I was-- I'll-- I'll make us some breakfast."


	6. Chapter Five: In which crockery is thrown

"Cassie?" he said softly, as I came towards the table with a pan full of eggs that were only a little burned. I really was trying. He was so damn skinny. Unfortunately, for me, trying is usually a mistake. I only ever seem to produce decent meals by accident. I did make Conner some really good eggs one time, but I was so tired and worried at the time that I can never remember what I actually did, although I gladly took credit at the time for knowing how to cook. 

"What?" I said distractedly, trying to chop off the blacker parts with the spatula before I served Ian. I made a mental note to get one of the neighbors to contribute something filling for the poor starving male. Too bad _he_ couldn't order _me_ to be a better cook-- though I wasn't sure if that was, as Hippolyta had said, well within the capacity of my normal brain. 

Ian looked up at me, ignoring the mostly-yellow mess I was shoveling onto his plate. His eyes didn't look like he'd slept much, his impromptu nap just now aside. "I was thinking. This spell thing. Maybe I can learn to– fight it." 

"Oh, Ian." I dumped the rest of the eggs, black bits included, onto my own plate, and turned to put the pan to soak, feeling like shit. I didn't know what to say. Not after the way he'd dropped at the word _sleep_. 

I had a strange, fleeting urge to take him in my arms and hug him again, but random cuddles from relative strangers were probably low on his list of comforting phenomena, at least when he was just depressed and not actually writhing in pain from sadistic spell backlash. 

"It's just–" he was saying. "Cassie, what if you lose your temper with me? I mean, not just telling me to sleep-- but you could tell me to–" He swallowed. "Maybe you wouldn't mean to hurt me, but wouldn't it be better for us both if I could at least... delay, until you could realize and... and let me off?" 

He was begging, and it made me feel sick. And even if I didn't think he could learn to fight the spell-- he had to understand the order to obey it. Maybe if we just got to know each other better. If he understood that I didn't-- well, that I didn't always mean things the way they sounded.

"I-- okay," I said hesitantly, sitting down at the table across from him. I tried to think of an innocuous command. "Run your fingers through your hair." 

He reached up immediately and sifted his fingers through his fine black hair. He must have washed it with my shampoo. I could smell it, faintly, almonds mixed with boy.

"See," I said.

He grimaced. "Too easy. It's got to be something I wouldn't do otherwise, or I won't be able to..." 

"What then? Tell me what to tell you."

"Tell me to kneel," he suggested. "Like before."

"Kneel," I said, and he slid to his knees in front of me. Much more gracefully than he had in the Amazons' hall. He looked up at me, his green eyes bright and alert under heavy lids. 

"Kiss my feet," I blurted, and he bowed down and did it, pressed warm soft lips to one foot and then the other between the straps of my sandals, then glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. I was a little wide-eyed myself. Where had that come from? And why– given that I had never believed myself to be a sick freak– was I so turned on? 

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, pulling my feet back slightly. "It's just, you said to tell you to do things you wouldn't otherwise–"

"Who says I wouldn't?" he said softly, and did it again. 

"Hey," I whispered.

"You have nice feet, Cassie," he said, and kissed my toes, with a little tongue this time. I couldn't believed how good it felt. "Nice shoes. Very classical." 

"Ian," I said weakly. "Don't feel like you–"

"Don't tell me how to _feel_!" he said sharply.

"Sorry!" I covered my mouth briefly, hating myself. "Sorry. I mean, I _hope_ you don't feel like you– uh– have to do this." 

"There's not much I don't have to do for you if you want it, Cassie," he said matter-of-factly. "I'd kill myself if you told me to."

"Um," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "that's not--"

"True?" said Ian, looking up at me with those eyes, half seductive, half dead. "You think I really believe I can fight this? I'm not a fighter. I do as I'm told. When I can't fucking stand it any more, I run away. And here I can't even do that." 

"You got off smack," I said quietly, meeting that awful, free-fall stare. "You won that fight. So I'm guessing you're a hell of a fighter, actually. But you don't have to fight me, Ian." 

"I'm not fighting," he said. "I'm too fucking tired. Tell me." 

"Tell you _what_?"

"Anything you like," he said. "Anything you want. Tell me and I will." 

"I know you will, I– _oh_ –"

"Tell me to stop," he said softly, between kisses to my insteps. "If you want me to stop." 

"Stop!" I said breathlessly, and he pulled away, looking more miserable than ever. "Ian, listen. Not that you're not extremely attractive, okay– but I don't want this. Not like this. Not when you're only doing it because– well, because you're tired. I get it, you're– manipulating me, to try to get me on your side. You don't have to. I'm already on your side. I swear." 

He examined me thoughtfully, sitting back on his heels, but still on his knees. 

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you on my side?"

I shrugged. "Because I'm not evil?"

He shook his head, still staring at me. "I really thought you'd– You've been all over me, hugging me and petting me, and dragging me all up in your lap--" 

" _What_? For fuck's sake–- you _asked_ me-–!"

He cringed from my anger. I'd been hot with embarrassment and annoyance, but his fear was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. "Sorry. I'm sorry I yelled. But you did-- you said me holding you made it better. And this morning, you would have _fallen_ if I hadn't caught you." 

"I know," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "I guess I just– I didn't think you were doing it just to be nice. I mean, I didn't know you were. And I thought– last night–"

"What?" I asked when he hesitated. 

He swallowed. "Don't be mad."

"I might get mad, but I won't tell you to get me a left-handed monkey wrench. What?"

He didn't smile. "I thought– when you told me to take the bed– I thought you'd, um. Be joining me." 

I stared at him. "Why?"

"Because I'm a fucking whore," he said, his eyes bright again, but not with happiness, "and you know it, and people don't put whores in their beds and just-- sleep on the floor. You told me to get cleaned up and all. I thought you wanted me. I don't know why else you've been acting so– protective." 

"Maybe because I want to fucking protect you," I snapped without thinking, and he gave me such a strange look that I started to babble. "Ian, I'm not– look, decent people don't act like that, okay? Decent people do give their guests their bed. Just because I tell you you can take a shower doesn't mean--" I shook my head. Ian was watching me, still on his knees. "Do you mind getting _up_ from there?"

He stared up at me for a minute before he said, "I can't. Unless you tell me. You told me to kneel."

"Oh." I suddenly wanted to put my head between my own knees. The first hour after I wake up on Themyscira usually doesn't involve anything more upsetting than eating my own cooking; I wasn't used to this kind of strain. "Move-- move freely." 

"Thanks, Cassie," he said quietly, getting to his feet and moving back to his chair. 

"Thanks?" I said incredulously. "For what? For not keeping you on your knees all day? For not raping you?"

"Basically," Ian said, with a pale ghost of a smile. "And for-- for being so nice to me. I know you didn't want me staying here in the first place, and if you don't want– my– my services– I don't know why you're being so nice. But, well, thanks." 

"It's-- no problem," I said, viciously suppressing another random but ridiculously strong urge to take him in my arms and stroke his hair comfortingly. "Um, look, I have to go to work. Do you want to-- come with me?" 

"Don't I have to?" he asked. "You're not supposed to leave me alone, are you?"

"I guess not." I hadn't really been thinking about that. "Anthea'll be there, though, the girl who wants to see you naked."

"That's okay," he said. "I mean, not being naked, but I assume you're still not going to make me do that. I don't mind _seeing_ her. She's just a kid."

I smiled. "Well, yeah." I was sort of impressed that he'd registered that-- most men, when confronted by a muscular six-foot Amazon female demanding in Greek to see him stripped naked, probably wouldn't have noticed how young she was. "She can get really annoying, though. And I can't order her to shut up, unfortunately. I mean, I can, but she so won't."

"Well, it's not like I'll understand her," he said resignedly. "And you can always lie in translation. Like if she asks how much you're charging per grope of my junk, you can tell me she asked for my phone number and if she could take me out for a root beer float."

It wasn't much of a joke, but at least he was making the attempt. 

"You could use a root beer float," I said. "I'm sorry about my shitty cooking, Ian. I'm going to get the neighbors to contribute some seriously fattening meals for the rest of the week."

"Oh, thank God," he said. "I didn't want to say anything in case you told me to piss off and die."

That was even less funny, considering, but I tried to smile. 

"Well, bring-- you should probably bring a book," I said, getting up from the table. "To the studio."

 

 

 _"The male can read?"_ was the first thing Anthea demanded when she bounced in. 

_"No, Anthea,_ " I said, putting a once-fired casserole dish down in front of her on the glazing table, " _the penis makes you illiterate._ "

 _"What's a penis?_ " she asked. " _Is that the male sex organ? Why is he pretending to read?_ "

 _"Anthea, for heaven's sake, men can read._ " Ian had looked up from his book-- Somerset Maugham, _The Razor's Edge_. "Sorry, Ian. _Get to work, Anthea._ "

She did, but she kept staring at Ian, who fidgeted with his book, trying not to stare back at her.

"What's Greek for 'take a picture, it'll last longer'?" he asked me finally, without looking up.

I cackled. 

" _Anthea, he wants you to put your eyes back in your head, please,_ " I told her. "Ian, I can't really kick her out, but if she's bugging you, I'll take you home. I don't have to be here. I'll take a week's vacation. We can hang out, I'll show you around." 

"I don't want to take you away from your job," he said, looking up with a smile that said he appreciated me offering, anyway. "I'm fine. She'll get tired of staring at me eventually. Or so I would assume."

"You'd think." I felt bad, though; it was obviously hard for him to concentrate on his book. "Hey-- you want to try? Making something, I mean?" 

He looked intrigued. "Can I?" 

"Sure. Here, I'll get you some clay." I showed him how to dip his hands in the slip, got him kicking rhythmically at the wheel-- he had a good sense of rhythm-- and put his hands on the clay. They were-- definitely boy hands. It's hard to explain the difference, but it's not just about size; Anthea's hands are twice the size of mine, but they're just big-girl hands, Amazon hands, not boy hands.

"It's just about getting a feel for the clay," I said as the clay slid under my fingers, between his fingers. "Just touch it for a while, feel how it moves– before--" I took my hands away, a little breathless, for absolutely no good reason I could think of. 

" _I am not allowed even to look_ ," said Anthea sulkily, " _but you are allowed to touch_?"

" _Shut your mouth,_ " I said without looking at her.

Ian's hands had started shaking. The clay went wild. 

"Relax," I said softly, peeling the clay off the wheel and dumping it into the slip bucket, and he calmed immediately, looking back at me with a strange expression. "Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to make that a command." 

"It's okay," he said. "Can I try again?"

His hands stayed steady this time.

"Good," I said, watching. "Use your– I mean, you can use your thumbs, to– shape it– yeah, you were watching me, weren't you? Hey, you're pretty good at this. You haven't done this before?" 

"No." He kept his gaze on the wheel. "Cassie? Can you-- tell me to relax, again?"

"Relax," I said, curiously, and he got a tiny smile on his face as he kept kicking. He pushed too hard, though, and fucked up the clay again; I went and got him some more. Small price to pay for the fact that he actually seemed to be enjoying himself, even if Anthea was still looking daggers. 

"Do you think I could learn to make something?" he asked, concentrating on shaping the wall of his creation as he kicked steadily at the wheel. "Something to take home with me, when I go?" 

My heart gave a bit of a lurch. 

"You think a week is long enough?" he went on, without looking at me. "Maybe a cup. You could help me. With the handle."

"Handles aren't hard," I said. "I'll show you if you want... Ian?" 

He looked up quickly, taking his hands off the clay. 

"You–" I swallowed. "Do you want to leave here? Do you want to go back to America?" 

"Not like I have a choice, Cassie," he said, looking back down at the wheel and putting his hands on it carefully. "Your goddess won't want me here any more than any of the rest of you do." 

He sounded so lost that I had to say, "I don't mind having you here."

He smiled again, a little. "I think I pretty well fucked up your morning, Cassie."

"No you didn't," I said, and it was true; the weirdness had been my fault and Hippolyta's, not his. "And anyway-- I like the Amazons, but it's nice to have someone sort of– normal– around. And you're smart-- and a smartass. Fun." _And decorative._ I shrugged uncomfortably. "I guess I'm being selfish. This must all be a real head trip for you." 

"Yeah," he said quietly, ruining the clay in front of him again. I reached down to peel and dump, the increasingly familiar urge to stroke him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay not even phased by the fact that my hands were slimy with mud. I twisted off another hunk of clay and slammed it down on the wheel in front of him, making him jump. 

"My turn," I said briskly, and he got up obediently. I dipped my hands and started kicking the wheel, relaxing into the soothing, familiar sensation of clay taking shape under my hands. "Let me make you something, Ian. A souvenir of Themyscira. What do you want? A cup? A casserole dish? A vase to bash in Rob's skull if he comes looking for you?" 

He laughed. "I think Rob's skull is harder than your stuff."

"You'd be surprised," I said, and the vase started to take shape under my hands. "Fire this baby twice, with a good thick glaze, there aren't many skulls it wouldn't crack." 

"If _you_ were swinging it, maybe," said Ian, looking at his feet. "That I'd believe."

I raised an eyebrow. "You might not have noticed, but I'm kind of a midget."

"So you'd stand on a chair," he said, looking up at me with another tiny grin. "Or-- didn't you say something about a lasso?"

I grinned back and started to answer, and then concentrated instead on the vase, making the clay walls thick, the base fat and sharp-edged, the stem ridged and easy to grasp. Out of the corner of my eye, Ian sat back down, still watching me.

Anthea's voice echoed in my head: _What will he do among the Amazons?_

 _What will he do,_ I thought in Greek, _in the world of men?_


	7. Chapter Six: The Case of the Charity Casserole

I'd half expected a stream of visitors wanting a gawk at the male, but most of the Amazons are pretty mature, really. Anthea's just young and wired, and even she probably wouldn't have come gawking-- or her mother wouldn't have let her-- if she didn't have legitimate business at the studio. So it was a pretty normal morning, all things considered. I got some stuff done.

I'd just decided to break for lunch when Lavinia showed up with a giant casserole dish I'd sold her myself, and thunked it down on the glazing table; when she pulled off the lid, something smelled _fantastic_. Lavinia's a little psychic like that.

Lavinia's probably my best friend on the island, aside from Diana, who isn't my friend so much as she is my... well, whatever the flip side of a sidekick is, plus throw an "ex" in there somewhere. She's Wonder Woman, and I used to be Wonder Girl: that's what she is to me. Sex with Diana, for the few months that was on, was like sex with the person I was going to be when I grew up, before everything got so fucked and nuts, and with everything I'd given up, and everything that had replaced it, because she'd brought me here. Sex with someone who'd crossed over between Paradise Island and the world of men, even if it was in the opposite direction from me. Sex with someone else who spoke English, at least. 

It wasn't very mature, maybe, but then, I was sixteen, so that was my excuse. I never asked Diana's.

Lavinia's more of an actual friend, the kind you have conversations with and discuss work and what you've been reading, and sometimes have dinner with when you need a break from your own crappy cooking. She's older than me-- I've never asked how much older, and Amazons don't exactly age the same way, but I'd guess she's in her late thirties-- and like most of the Amazons, she lives with three or four other women, who occasionally move out and are replaced by other roommates. Roommates, or lovers, or both-- I'm not really sure how all that works. I asked Lavinia once if she was a lesbian and she said no, she was a Themysciran, which maybe answered that more thoroughly than she realized. Things are different here than in the world of men. I mean, for one thing, if you want a kid, you ask the goddess for one, which might possibly make everybody on this island half-sisters on the immaculate conception side, depending on the physics of how the goddess handles parthenogenesis. I just steer clear of the whole mess.

" _Hi, Cassandra. I made lunch,_ " she said cheerfully. " _Hi, Anthea. Hi. I'm Lavinia._ "

That last greeting was directed at Ian, who'd looked up cautiously from his book, and looked at me for help.

"This is my friend Lavinia," I told him. " _Lavinia, his name is Ian._ "

" _Hi, Ian_ ," she said. " _Hungry_?"

I snorted. " _Do you even have to ask? Dish him up something, quick. He's starving._ "

" _I thought so,_ " she said, grabbing a plate off my shelf of finished products and producing a big serving spoon from her canvas bag. " _Anthea, hon, why don't you run home for lunch? Let me talk with Cassandra._ "

" _Whatever_ ," said Anthea, a little sulkily, and got up to rinse her hands while Lavinia heaped a plate with what looked like chicken divan over rice and handed it and a fork to Ian, who looked at me again.

"It's not poisoned or anything," I told him. "She's a good cook."

"Thank you," he said to Lavinia, who beamed at him once I'd translated. Anthea left, with a last curious glance backwards, as Ian dug into the food like a ravenous beast. Did my heart good to see him.

" _Can I have some?_ " I asked, but Lavinia was already handing me a plate and a fork. " _Thanks, Vinia_."

" _You're welcome,_ " she said, serving herself. " _I didn't want your new friend to starve to death. How is she holding up?_ "

We weren't used to using male pronouns. It was sort of sweet-- Anthea and Hippolyta had both used the male pronoun because to them his maleness was the important part, but Lavinia just used the pronoun that meant a person, on the island.

" _He's okay_ ," I said. " _Stressed out. Did you hear about the binding?_ "

She had, but not in detail, so I filled her in while Ian scraped his plate. Lavinia took it away and gave him another helping. When I got to the part about Hippolyta and her comments about "power greater than she knew," Lavinia's brow furrowed.

" _Poor boy,_ " she said after a moment. " _He's lucky to have you._ "

" _I don't think he is_ ," I said, surprised. " _I've been fucking up right and left. I accidentally made him fall asleep this morning._ "

" _So? He looks like he could use a nap,_ " said Lavinia, glancing over at him.

" _This isn't funny, Vin,_ " I said irritably. 

" _I'm not trying to be funny,_ " she said. " _Cassandra, sweetie, I love you, but you're a prickly bitch and you scare me sometimes. I thought the male would be much more terrorized than this._ "

" _Oh, thanks!_ "

_"But he isn't! He keeps looking at you for reassurance. As if he knows you'll take care of him."_

_"He's looking at me like that because I'm the only one on this damn island who speaks English,"_ I said. _"Just because I'm slightly less scary to him than the rest of the Amazons are doesn't mean I'm doing a good job of taking care of him."_

Lavinia reached out and patted my arm. " _See? You're worrying about doing a good job. It's adorable._ "

 _"That I'm a decent human being?"_

_"No,"_ she said, _"that you're an archegos."_

I didn't recognize the word. " _A what_?"

 _"You know,"_ she said, smiling, and did a funny little bit of mime that I eventually figured out was supposed to be unhitching and then twirling a lasso. _"Like Diana. Fighting evil. Saving people."_

 _"Oh."_ A superhero, she must mean. That kind of cracked me up. _"Not really. Not any more._ "

 _"Yes any more_ ," she said, which is grammatical in Themysciran Greek. " _Ask him if he wants more food._ "

Ian had cleaned his plate again. I translated Lavinia's inquiry, and he said, "No, thanks. Um, tell her thanks a lot. That was really good."

I translated.

 _"Oh, you're welcome, honey!"_ she said, beaming at him. _"I'll bring you over some food tonight. I know Cassandra is a terrible cook._ "

He laughed at that when I translated. "Tell her thanks again."

 _"See,"_ she said to me. _"He knows it's safe to laugh at your cooking. I only dare laugh at your cooking because I'm so much bigger than you are. You must really like him."_

 

When she was gone, Ian said, "Were you talking about me?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling a little sheepish. "I was saying I haven't been doing a very good job of taking care of you."

"And she disagreed?"

I nodded. "She's cute, but not too bright."

He grinned at me. "You haven't been doing so badly, Cassie."

I wasn't sure why it meant so much that he'd say that, but it did. I felt a little weak, actually. "Um-- thanks. Ian?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Would you be up for--" I hadn't thought it would be a good idea to ask before, but if he was really feeling comfortable like Lavinia had said, maybe he wouldn't mind. "Experimenting, a little? With the limitations of the spell?"

He went a shade paler. "Um--"

"I don't mean I'd tell you to do anything you couldn't do!" I said hurriedly. "God, I wouldn't do that again for a billion drachmae. Dollars. I just meant-- well, last night, I told you to drum your fingers on the table, but I said it in Greek, and you didn't."

"Sorry," he said automatically, and then grimaced like he realized it wasn't the right answer. I really didn't like that, that his first reaction to me telling him he hadn't done something-- anything-- was to apologize. That didn't exactly bode well for him learning to fight off the spell, either. It was like Hippolyta had said; this kid was _an unusually susceptible subject_ to a binding of obedience. Probably because of that fucking Rob. I wondered what he used to do to Ian; then I decided I didn't want to know.

"No worries," I said. "But you didn't flip out either-- so I was thinking, you only have to obey orders you understand, right? So that means that if--" It was completely clear in my head, but I was stalling a little on putting it into words that would make sense to anybody else. "I mean, this morning, when I told you to go back to sleep. I obviously didn't mean 'fall asleep right there where you stand'-- but that's what you understood, anyway, because that's what you did. But maybe if you-- instead of trying to _fight_ it, maybe if you just try to _understand_ it differently. Like if you could understand that if I say 'go back to sleep' I mean 'go back to bed and fall asleep when you're comfortable.'"

His brow was furrowed deeply, and he was staring at the floor like he was trying to read clay-splotch hieroglyphics.

"Does that make any sense at all?" I asked, a little disconsolately, and he smiled at me. I _really_ liked his smile.

"Yeah, yeah, it does," he said. "I'm just-- not sure how voluntary the whole understanding thing is. I mean, like you said, it should have been obvious what you meant, but it wasn't to whatever part of me obeys you. So-- what part is that, and how do I explain to it?"

He did get it. I beamed at him. 

"That's what I thought we could experiment with," I said. "The--sort of-- I guess you could call it the irrational part of you. The orders-obeying part. If you're up for it, I mean. I can tell you to do stuff-- just dumb stuff, like 'look at the ceiling'--"

He looked at the ceiling. I couldn't help cracking up, even though I felt bad.

"See?" I said. "I mean, look at whatever you want. But that's what I mean. Obviously you understood I was just using an example-- so what made you actually look at the ceiling?"

"You're mean," he said, but with a tiny little curve to his mouth. "You shouldn't laugh at me. I have-- an affliction."

Of course that just made me laugh again, and he laughed with me. It was the first time I'd heard him laugh for real, and it was seriously the cutest laugh _ever_ , a hiccuping little job that made me want to tickle him so he'd laugh harder.

In the middle of our laughing, Anthea barged back in and demanded to know what was so funny, which for some reason cracked me up more, which cracked Ian up more, and we got into a serious giggle fit. It was probably pent-up stress relief and all, but neither of us could quit, and I kept trying to say something to Anthea in Greek and couldn't think of the words, and then Ian looked at her and said "Etch a Sketch," which made me laugh so hard I actually fell off my stool.

" _Americans are crazy_ ," Anthea concluded with dignity, and sat back down at the glazing table.

Finally Ian calmed down, and then I calmed down, and got back up on my stool and apologized to Anthea and got back to work. I didn't dare catch Ian's eye until I was sure the fit of the giggles was over, but when I finally did, he looked like he'd been waiting for me to.

"I like that idea," he said. "I mean, experimenting with it."

"Oh, good," I said. "When we get home tonight, then, maybe. Not in front of Anthea. She already thinks we're insane."

"Who can blame her?" The laughing had done Ian good; there was more color in his cheeks, and he looked way more relaxed. The square meal probably hadn't hurt, either. I hoped Vinia wouldn't forget to bring over that food tonight, like she'd promised-- although ultimately I guessed it was going to be my responsibility to keep him fed. Maybe I could get the neighbors on a rota or something. "Probably best if I just stay quiet for the rest of the afternoon, yeah? When do you get off?"

"Couple hours before sunset," I said. "Maybe four more hours? You okay with your book?"

"Fine," he said, smiling and opening it up again, then looking up at me instead of down at it. "Cassie? What was your friend's name again?"

"Lavinia," I said. 

He nodded. "She seemed nice."

I wanted to ask, _What do you mean, nice?_ , and for some reason I wanted to ask it a little sharply, which was totally silly-- she _was_ nice, and it was especially nice of her to bring him some food and fend off his imminent starvation. I didn't say anything, but some of the color went out of Ian's cheeks. Fuck. I obviously needed to learn a thing or two about the irrational part of _me_ , especially if it was going to be spending a lot of time around the irrational part of Ian. Which it looked like it was, for the next week at least.

I wasn't sure if I should apologize or what-- for a facial expression? Could you apologize for those? What if they'd obviously made somebody turn pale?-- but after a moment, I said softly, on impulse, "Relax, Ian."

He did. More than he had when I'd said it before. The color came back to his face, and he breathed in, deeply, and he smiled at me.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm a little-- on edge, I guess."

"You've been through a lot." I wanted-- like _hell_ I wanted-- to go over there, put my arm around him and kiss his cheek. It was the most specific random impulse ever. I was starting to wonder if this spell business was all one-way. I could just about restrain myself from getting up, but I absolutely couldn't restrain myself from asking, "Is there anything I can-- do for you?"

He gave me the strangest look, then shook his head and looked down at his book before he said, "Thanks."

I had to get up and wedge clay until my arms were tired before I was any good at the wheel. He didn't look up. I avoided looking at him for the rest of the afternoon.

 

After Anthea left, I rinsed my hands and we walked home, without saying anything. It was pretty comfortable, though. Like I said, the weather is always beautiful here-- it was balmy and sunny, with a nice cool breeze, and I couldn't help thinking of where he'd be headed at the time of day, back in America. 

There was a casserole dish on the stoop, and a note in Lavinia's writing that just said, " _For the boy._ " Cute. She'd gotten the declension right and everything.

"So," I said, when we were inside. "Ready to experiment?" 

He nodded. "As I'll ever be."

 

"Anything yet?" I asked an hour later, checking my Swiss Army watch. Diana had to get me a new battery for it from the mainland a year ago, but other than that, it handles Crazy Amazon Goddess Dimension very well.

"No," Ian said plaintively, "except my knees hurt." 

"Damn it, surely there's _some_ kind of time limitation on 'kneel.' 'Kiss the ground' just meant 'press your lips to the ground for a second and then, you know, whatever, it's cool.' It's not like you're still stuck with your mouth to the floor until I tell you you can stop." 

"But kisses inherently end," he said thoughtfully. "'Kiss' means 'touch with your lips and then pull away.'"

"Then I've been doing it wrong," I teased.

"Shut up," he said, smiling. "You know what I mean."

"I don't think it's fair you can tell me to shut up and I can't tell you to," I complained. 

He peered at me. "You can tell me to."

"Yes, but then you _will_ , and that's no fun." 

He grinned. "Anyway... 'kneel' just means 'assume a position,' no reason to think I'll ever get to un-assume it. Unless you tell me I can. Please, Cassie. This floor is hard." 

I sighed. "You have no spirit of scientific inquiry. Move freely. Simon says."

"I have plenty of scientific inquiry," he said, shifting into a sitting position and stretching his legs out. "Oof. Thank you. Just not at the expense of my _knees_. How can you stand _sleeping_ on this floor?" 

"I can sleep anywhere," I said. "Anyway, it only hurts your knees because they're so damn bony. Which reminds me, are you hungry? Let's see what Vinia brought over."

"Cassie?" said Ian, as I got out plates and forks and dished up the food, which involved rice and beans and cheese and peppers and onions and raisins and-- from the smell of it-- cumin, and was making my mouth water. "When you told me to sleep-- you told me to wake up, right?"

"Oh, yeah." I considered that. "I was really afraid you wouldn't-- obey me-- but I guess you obey me even in your sleep. That puts a whole other layer of crazy on it, doesn't it?"

"Actually," he said, "I was thinking. I didn't sleep so well last night."

"I didn't think you did," I agreed. 

"I was thinking," he repeated. "Maybe tonight-- you could tell me to sleep, again. Except in bed, this time."

I stared at him.

"And then wake me up in the morning," he added. "And then-- I'd be able to sleep."

"So I'd be like your sleeping pill," I said.

He grinned again. "Something like that."

"Well." I considered. "I guess-- if you really want. Something good might as well come out of this freaky spell. You trust me to wake you up again?"

He nodded. "I do."

He said it with emphasis, like it meant something, and it did, it meant a _lot_ , even if he didn't have a lot of options right now. 

"Okay," I said quietly. "After dinner. I'll-- help you sleep."

He smiled at me. 

"Thanks, Cassie," he said, and took another bite of food.

I got up and went towards him-- I _truly_ couldn't help it this time. He looked up at me, startled, and at the last second, I dropped to my knees and put my forehead on the edge of the chair between his knees, my hands flat, palms down, on his knees. It was just about enough, the contact, even though it wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted was the last thing he needed. What I wanted was to grab him. What I wanted-- okay, what I wanted was to _kiss_ him.

"Cassie?" he said uncertainly, and I squeezed his knees with my hands.

"I'm okay," I said, the edge of the chair digging into my forehead. "I, um, I think we need to talk to Hippolyta again."


	8. Chapter Seven: In which Hippolyta is not as helpful as I was hoping

" _What is it now, daughter of the patriarchy?_ " Hippolyta demanded-- quite rudely, I thought-- when we barged in on her dinner again. I wasn't in a particularly sweet temper myself, after a brisk, awkward and nearly silent walk over to her house in Ian's nervous, deferentially unquestioning company, but Hippolyta looked even more annoyed than I did, if possible.

She listened with raised eyebrows to my detailed and possibly not-very-grammatically-correct account of the symptoms I was now experiencing thanks to her stupid binding, and then she shrugged one elegant shoulder and said, " _You should fuck him_."

Well, okay, so she didn't say that. She used a very graceful and elliptical verb that can also be used of a flower being pollinated by a bee, which did not make it even remotely okay. I would have thanked the gods that Ian didn't understand Greek, but I was too busy _not believing my ears._

" _I cannot even begin to enumerate everything that is wrong with that, my queen_ ," I said.

She scowled at me in a perhaps-it's-time-we-rethought-this-letting-you-live-here-thing way. " _You want him, and he will submit to you. What is wrong with that?_ "

" _Look_ ," I said, giving up in advance on explaining the concept of date rape drugs and their relationship to the situation at hand. " _Can you please just... turn it off?_ "

" _The binding of Aphrodite is not to be lifted lightly_ ," she said, irritably.

" _Then lift it heavily._ " 

"Cassandra Sandsmark, _I have had enough of this_ ," she snarled, and I knew I'd pushed her about as far as I safely could. It wasn't like she couldn't make things worse if she decided to. " _I do not want to see you again until the goddess arrives to administer her verdict. Take care of the male until then. Thus is my command, and thus is the end of the matter._ "

 

 

"I'm sorry," I said to Ian as we walked home. "I'll try not to-- um-- grab you, or anything."

"What is it you're wanting to do, exactly?" he asked curiously. "I mean-- grab me and do what?"

I blushed like a lobster, if lobsters had to confess their near-irresistible physical urges towards strange men instead of just getting a nice merciful boiling-alive. "Um. Nothing... invasive. Sort of-- hug you, I guess. Like after the first time I accidentally zapped you."

"You can do that if you want," he said, and then he blushed too. "I mean, if you're-- compelled, the same way I am, it must be hell trying not to. I can, uh, take one for the team."

"Thanks!" I punched him in the arm, and the weirdest thing happened-- I was already pissed as hell at myself, because for Christ's sake, Cassie, you don't play-punch a kid who's actually been abused-- but he was going into cringe mode, eyes down, shoulders hunched, huddled away from me like he was trying to protect his vital organs, and then he stopped, and reversed direction. Uncringed. I'm not sure how else to say it. He didn't punch me back or anything, which is what I would have preferred, but it was still pretty awesome.

"On the other hand," he said, "if that's your idea of hugging, never mind."

"It's my socially inept idea of an affectionate gesture," I said, which actually made him smile a little. "Sorry. Anyway, I don't think I'm compelled anywhere near as strongly as you are. I just... really, really want to."

"Are you sure it's the spell?" he asked, and then blushed, himself. "I don't mean because I'm all that-- huggable, I just mean, you said you weren't gay, and I'm the first man you've seen in-- um, I should really stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

I laughed. "No, no, that's a fair point. Although it doesn't really matter-- there's nothing we can do about it either way, so I'll just have to suck it up. Um. And now _I'm_ going to stop talking."

He was laughing, and I covered my eyes as we walked, which wasn't the smartest move-- he had to grab my arm to steady me, and then I had to fall down on purpose anyway to keep from swinging around and falling against him and possibly making out with him, depending on what the evil binding had up its sleeve once it had me in his arms. Then I lay on the ground without moving, exhausted by sheer embarrassment. I was _sure_ Aphrodite wouldn't want me to suffer like this. It wasn't like I wasn't socially handicapped enough, after four supposedly formative years on Overgrown Girl Scout Island, without this sort of thing.

The toes of Ian's filthy sneakers came into view among the blades of grass and clover and chaff, and then the worn knees of his jeans.

"Cassie?" he said tentatively.

"Don't touch me," I said, and the knees scooted backward hastily, one and then the other. "I mean, I'm fine. You're fine. Everybody's fine. Just... don't touch me." 

"Ever?" he asked. "I mean, is that a standing order?"

I rolled over, so that I was looking up at his face, and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"No," he said, cocking an eyebrow right back at me. "I think you mean I shouldn't help you up, but there's no reason why I shouldn't touch you again once you get to your feet."

"Let's test that theory," I said, my mortal embarrassment yielding momentarily to a sudden surge of scientific intrigue, and started to scramble to my feet, getting tangled in my own chiton for only about a thousand excruciating centuries. 

I finally achieved balance on two feet-- clearly a miracle of spontaneous evolutionary development-- and raised my eyebrows at Ian, who reached out to touch me, then halted right before his hand made contact with my arm.

"Goddammit," he said, making ineffectual swipes towards me, but not making contact. " _Damn_ it!"

"Fascinating," I said, watching. "You can tell yourself what you think I mean all you want, but some part of you obviously doesn't believe it."

"Go ahead, rub it in," he said, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Let's just walk. Not that this isn't all great exercise."

"And only slightly more awkward than-- junior prom," I agreed as we picked up the pace of our strides back to my house. I hadn't actually gone to junior prom, having been engaged in saving some minorly important city from some marginal menace at the time, but I'd heard stories from classmates, and it seemed like a more relatable thing to say than "...walking in on Robin and Impulse in an extremely compromising position in the dungeon of Titans Tower while looking for Donna's old breastplate that was too big for me anyway."

"I wouldn't know," Ian said, whereupon, of course, I remembered that he'd probably spent what would have been his junior prom getting fucked by strange men for heroin.

I reached out and put my hand on his back-- _completely_ without thinking-- and he jumped, and then looked inexplicably delighted. He moved closer to me, then put his arm around me. I froze.

"Ian, what are you--"

"I can touch you now!" he said, clearly thrilled. I was a little less thrilled, in a couple of different ways-- both the part of me that was determined not to yield to the spell and touch him the way I wanted to, and the part of me that now wanted to touch him in ways that pertained to the zipper of his jeans. 

This was escalating fast.

"When you touched me," he went on happily, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was completely rigid in the crook of his arm, "I-- the spell-- it knew you wouldn't touch me, if you didn't want-- Cassie?"

"I want to take your pants off," I said between my teeth, which made him move _right_ off me.

We stood there for a minute without saying anything.

"I need a cold shower," I said finally. "Like now."

"Okay," said Ian without meeting my eye, and when I took off running, he didn't chase me.

 

 

I left the door to the house ajar, got into the bathroom, locked _that_ door, and turned the cold water on full blast. It didn't really help, but it was at least a distraction. I shaved my legs and armpits as a further distraction, then realized I'd removed one deterrent to getting naked in front of an American boy, which hadn't been the idea.

Would it really be the worst thing in the world if we had sex under the influence of coercive magic? I wanted it, and he wanted to please me, so what could it hurt? It wasn't as if I'd asked to be cursed with exponentially growing lust for my involuntary charge-- and I'd tried _really hard_ to fight it-- and there was only so much human flesh could stand. I'd been _stripped_ of my superpowers, and super-self-control had never been one of them in the first place.

Just a _tiny_ bit of sex? A couple of quick pumps? Two, maybe three orgasms? Not counting his?

I noticed my fingers were inside me and I was moaning softly, which I was pretty sure was not supposed to happen in a _cold_ shower. When Aphrodite arrived, I was going to persuade her to wreak horrible divine vengeance on Hippolyta for this, if I had to get down on my knees and lick her golden goddesshood.

Surely there was some way to make the water colder than this. 

 

 

My pajamas were wadded up in the laundry hamper; I fished them out, after drying off, and put them on. Then I twisted my hair up in a towel turban and stepped out of the shower. 

Ian was sitting there on a kitchen chair, reading, or pretending to read. He looked up at me, and got an extremely weird look on his face. At first I thought he was afraid of me-- and who could blame him, after the last thing I'd said to him. It took me a moment to realize that he was just trying really hard not to laugh.

"What?" I demanded. "What's funny?"

He pointed at me, and I looked down at myself, and reluctantly cracked a grin. 

"What?" I said. "I brought them from the mainland, okay? They're vintage! I happen to like them!"

"They're very, uh--" said Ian, and snorted with helpless laughter. I shook my head.

"Listen," I said, and then paused. "Wait, does that do anything to you? Me saying 'listen'?"

"Nope," said Ian, settling down slightly, though he was still grinning hugely. "Guess I was already listening."

"Okay. Do you want me to do the thing we said before, where I tell you to fall asleep and then tell you to wake up?"

"Yeah," he said immediately. "If you don't mind."

I put my head on one side. "You're not scared I'll molest you in your sleep?"

"It's not like I could stop you if I was awake," he pointed out, which made me feel vaguely sick, especially since he didn't even sound put out by this-- just practical. "Anyway, you wouldn't. You'd do another face-plant if you had to. That was pretty impressive, by the way. You practice?"

"You don't get to be Wonder Girl without learning how to fall down and not get hurt," I said, rather pleased by this tribute to an underappreciated talent. Not to mention by the fact that he trusted me to fall down on purpose again rather than touch him in ways he didn't want. Which I would. Of course I would. "Okay. Go-- why don't you go in the bedroom and get out of your jeans-- unless you want to sleep in them, which is totally fine-- and get in the bed, and yell when you're ready. I swear, I am normally able to communicate without everything sounding like a sexual innuendo."

"I'd imagine so," said Ian, and turned to go into the bedroom. I waited, heard the creak of bedsprings, valiantly imagined absolutely nothing, and waited some more till I heard him call, "I'm decent."

I went in there and sat down on the chair by the bed. He was lying on his back, completely covered up by the sheet and bedspread, head nicely arranged on the pillow, and he got that look on his face again as he looked at my pajamas. 

"What?" I demanded. "How is this still funny?" 

"That you wear Batman pajamas?" he said. "I've got news for you, Cassie. That's _never_ not going to be funny."

I squinted at him. "I could order you not to find it funny." 

"Oh, no," he said, eyes widened in comic horror. "Please, Cassie, you promised not to order me to do anything _impossible_."

"You are such a punk." I hesitated. "Okay, you ready?"

He nodded, and I said, after another second's hesitation, "Sleep."

His eyes closed.

"You asleep?" I asked, and there wasn't any response, just even, deep, quiet breathing. "Ian?"

So presumably it had worked. And God, did he look adorable lying there. I reached down, against my better judgment, and touched his hair, sifting my fingers through it. It was soft as silk, and still smelled faintly of my shampoo, a clean sweet almond scent. 

Then I went to lie down on the floor in the other room.

 

I didn't really think I was going to sleep, but I must have, because I woke up with a jolt, listening to a sound coming from the bedroom. It wasn't a good sound. I rolled to my feet and ran.

Ian's eyes were wide open, and he was whimpering desperately, flat on his back; his eyes didn't move, and neither did the rest of him, when I practically threw myself down on the edge of the bed, next to him.

"Ian?" I said, snapping my fingers in his eyes, which didn't make him blink. "Ian, sweetie, are you okay?"

No response. Then it hit me. "Ian, wake up!"

He screamed and jolted, and his eyes focused on me, and he sat bolt upright and dropped forward into my arms. I held him and rocked him, sex mercifully the furthest thing from my thoughts, while he whimpered a few times, on a diminishing scale, then subsided to shuddering breaths.

"Fuck," he whispered, and then, "oh, fuck, Cassie, I'm sorry, I-- I couldn't wake up--"

"You were having a nightmare," I said softly, and he nodded against me. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, and pulled back, and I took both his hands and squeezed them, hard. 

"No, I'm sorry," I said. "I should have thought what it would mean, if you couldn't wake up."

"Do you--" He looked up into my eyes, his own eyes pensive and slightly unfocused. "Cassie, do you think you could-- tell me-- what to dream?"

That pulled me up short. I stared at him.

"You _want_ me to?" I asked incredulously. It seemed like the ultimate invasion of privacy to me-- but then, I didn't know nearly as much as Ian did about-- violation. If he wanted me to dictate his dreams-- "What would you want to dream about?" 

"I don't know," he said with a small, tired smile. There was no doubt that the boy desperately needed some sound sleep without nightmares. "You pick."

I managed a smile back at him. "Give me an idea. Unicorns? Spaceships? Apple pie?" 

"Flying, I guess," he said, and I could see tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes, the way they do when you're so tired your eyes are trying to fall asleep without you. "Isn't that everybody's favorite dream? I used to have-- great flying dreams-- when I was a kid. Soaring through the air-- everybody staring up at you..." He paused, sobering, when he saw my face. "Cassie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, fiddling with the edge of my pajamas.

"But you look–"

"It's just, I used to be able to fly," I said. "For real. Like Diana, you know."

"You did?" he asked, smiling a little. "When you were Wonder Girl? What else could you do?"

"Well. I had super strength." I considered. "And a magic lasso." 

"Like Diana's?"

"Yeah," I said, "but mine was different. It didn't make people tell the truth." 

"What did it do?"

I grinned. "Shot sparks."

He laughed. "Seriously?" 

"Yep. Well, lightning bolts, really. When I got pissed off. It was pretty sweet." 

"You don't need it," he said, and yawned again. "So. Flying dream?"

I nodded, and paused for a moment to collect my thoughts and plan what I was about to say, as if it were a sentence in Greek. "Okay, Ian. In a minute, I'm going to tell you to fall asleep. When you do, and when you start dreaming, have a good dream-- a flying dream. Don't dream anything bad or scary. Don't dream that things turn weird or creepy. Have only dreams you enjoy, that relax you, until I wake you up. Understand?"

"Understand," said Ian, and I couldn't read the expression on his face, but suddenly-- for the first time since he'd screamed and woken up-- I wanted to kiss him again. 

"Lie down," I said, and added, as a precaution, as he obeyed, "When I tell you to wake up in the morning, you can move freely. Ready to sleep?"

He nodded, and I said, again, "Sleep."

His eyes closed, and this time, I sat there for a while, watching him-- watching his face, the calm of it. It wasn't until he smiled in his sleep that I got up, quietly, and went to take another cold shower.


	9. Chapter Eight: In which the earth moves for everyone

I woke up shivering on the hard floor, a warm hand on my shoulder. My eyes flicked open-- I used to have reflexes that would have had him on the floor first, my hands around his neck, ready to squeeze, but I didn't any more, and I guessed it was just as well. He looked so damn happy. 

"Cassie," he said softly. "Cassie, it worked. I had the _best_ dream. Just like you said. About flying."

I smiled up at him, still not all the way awake: cold skin, damp hair, hard floor, happy Ian. "Tell me."

"You were still Wonder Girl," he said, "and you were still wearing your stupid pajamas, and you were flying with me."

I giggled and sat up, knuckling my eyelids. "You know what they say about flying dreams."

"That they're awesome?" he suggested.

I yawned. "That they're really about sex."

"Yeah?" he said, and wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me on the lips.

He was so warm, and I admit it, I kissed back, morning breath and all, I _clung_ to him, for longer than my sleep-dulled brain excused. So warm, and hard, and smelling of boy. No super strength like Conner, no alien Superboy gleam to his skin; just a kid, like me, in a ratty T-shirt and underwear, a normal kid in the land of the Amazons. I didn't pull away. I couldn't. He pulled back first, searching my face, hopeful and scared, and I just burst into tears.

"Oh, Cassie!" he said, his hands up in the air, quivering, not knowing whether to touch me again or apologize or what. I'm officially the nightmare date: the girl who cries when you kiss her and can't explain why, with added "can supernaturally compel you to unconditional obedience or horrible agonizing punishment" fun.

"It's okay," I said-- I didn't _sob_ , or anything, I refuse to sob, even if I'm crying at the time. "I'm just fucking frustrated, I-- why did you do that? Why, when I'm trying so hard not to let this spell thing make me-- take advantage of you? Why do you have to _kiss_ me?"

"Because I want you," he said, simply, like it was simple. "And you want me. Don't you?"

"Oh, God." I pulled my knees up, buried my face in them; I couldn't look at him. "Ian, it's not right. Not when you can't say no."

"I can say no," he said.

"Not if I tell you not to."

"But you haven't."

"But I _could_ ," I said firmly, "and you know it."

"But you _wouldn't_ ," he answered, just as firmly, "and I know that too."

"How do you know?" I demanded. "You think you know me after-- what has it been, three days?"

"Yes, I think I know you," he snapped back. "I think under the circumstances, I know you pretty well, Cassie."

"You know-- what? That I can't cook? That I'm a potter? That I fucked Wonder Woman? What's doing it for you, the lesbian thing?"

He pulled back at that, blinked at me. "Are you asking me why I'm _attracted_ to you?"

"I'm saying I know why you're doing this," I said, already exhausted, but not about to lie back down. I would have stood up, but I didn't want him at my feet, either. "And it's not because you're attracted to me. You practically admitted it, before. You're just tired of fighting, and you're trying to kiss up to me-- literally. And I'm trying like hell to fight this spell, but I don't have super strength any more, so just--" I stopped myself right before giving a potentially problematic order. "So I _wish_ you'd just-- leave me alone."

"That's not it," he said, looking genuinely shocked. "That's not it at all, Cassie. I mean, maybe it was _then_ , a little, but-- I'm not afraid of you now. And I'm not tired. I had the best fucking night's sleep since I was ten, okay, and you're so fucking beautiful, Cassie, and– if you'd– let me–" 

" _Ian!_ " I yelled it, and then I said, on purpose, "Back off! Get back! Ten feet away from me, and stay there!"

He scrambled backwards on his hands and knees to the prescribed distance, looking more annoyed than alarmed. I breathed hard for a minute, clearing my lungs of his scent, and then I said, calmly, "It's because of the _spell_ , Ian. The binding of Aphrodite. Hippolyta said her powers were greater than she knew. She pumped too much juice into it. You think you’re attracted to me, because Aphrodite is the goddess of _desire_."

"So it's working like a love spell?" he said thoughtfully, gazing at me. 

I nodded. "Kind of."

"So you're not really beautiful," he said. "I just think you are. Because of the spell."

"Seems like the simplest explanation," I answered. "Ockham's razor."

Ian blinked, and then he started laughing so hard I thought at first he was in pain. I sat there glaring at him, trying not to start laughing too, even though I sort of saw what he meant.

"Cassie," he gasped finally, "a few days ago, Wonder Woman tied me up with her glowy gold truth-enforcing rope and flew me in her invisible glass plane to a mythical island inhabited solely by very tall women who speak a dead language--"

"Okay, okay," I said.

"No, wait-- and introduced me to a tiny blonde American girl who turns out to be a retired Teen Titan and Superboy's ex and the daughter of the king of the gods--"

"There are a lot of Zeus' illegitimate kids around, okay," I interrupted. "It's not such a big deal."

"--and then took me to see the queen of the tall chicks, who shot blue lightning bolts out of her hands at me so now I am physically unable to disobey anything ex-Wonder Girl orders me to do, and," he added, starting to laugh again so hard that he could barely get this out, "wait, wait, she's _sexually attracted to me_ , and I am to her, but she refuses to have sex with me because it would be _wrong_ and _taking advantage_ of me, and then--"

He was laughing so hard now that he actually fell, or flopped, down on the floor, wheezing inaudibly.

"And then she starts talking to you about Ockham's razor," I supplied grumpily. "Okay, ha ha, very funny. But my point still stands. It's not a good idea to start having sex in circumstances this weird. What happens when the goddess arrives?"

"She kicks me off the island," he answered, and coughed, trying to get his breath back, "and we either had sex first, or we didn't. What's the big difference?"

"It's not like that," I said, irritably. " _She's_ not like that. She cares about-- stuff like this. Sex, and-- and attraction. She'd be mad at me."

That startled him. "Mad at _you_?"

"For taking advantage of you," I said.

"But it's _her_ spell."

"No it's not," I said. "I mean, it sort of is, because it's her power, but Hippolyta's the one who-- shaped it. It's like-- well, if I make a plate out of the clay of Themyscira, it's _her_ island, so it's her clay, and it's sort of her plate. But if I fuck it up, it's not her fuckup."

He was quiet for a long time after that, and then he said, "And _you're_ hers, too. Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah," I said. "I am."

He nodded. "What does that mean?"

I guess that should have been an easy question, after four years, but the thing was, it wasn't a question I'd ever been asked. Not because it wasn't important, but because since it had happened-- since I'd been accepted-- I hadn't talked to anybody who didn't already know. We all belonged to her. Themyscira was her island, and we-- the Amazons and I-- were her people. That was what it meant for me to be here. Being Diana's protegee wouldn't have done a damn thing for me if I hadn't knelt at the feet of the goddess, and bowed my head to her hand. And everything that came after.

"It's--" I shook my head. "It's hard to explain."

"But you don't want her mad at you," said Ian.

"No."

"Would she--" He hesitated, and I could see his Adam's apple go up and down, even at this distance. "Would she hurt you?"

"No, no," I said, and then, "Well. Not like you mean. Not on purpose. She just-- the way she _is_ \-- it's hard to explain."

"Try,” he asked. “Tell me about her.”

I didn't know if that was any easier, although I knew what there was to know about her; even before I'd met her, I'd studied, I'd read books. Books couldn't really give you any idea, though. There were hints here and there; when she revealed herself to Adonis, after their first night together, he threw himself face down onto the ground and begged to be destroyed for having touched her so carelessly. When she came to her son Aeneas in disguise, to advise him, and dropped her glamor as she walked away from him, and the glory of the soles of her feet drove him to his knees, weeping. I'd never really understood any of that, until I met her myself.

"She's beautiful," I said eventually. "I mean, perfect. And, well, scary. Not because she'd _hurt_ you, exactly, but because-- well, she doesn't look human. I mean, she's more beautiful than any human could possibly be. She glows a little, too. At least she looks like she does. I'm not sure if it's actual-- you know-- light, or if it's just..." 

I trailed off. Ian was listening intently, and I thought what else to tell him, running down the list of her other epithets: Urania, Kypris or Kyprogenes, Polos, Pandemos. Heavenly Lady, Cyprus-born, the High-Crowned One, She of All Peoples...

"What's so funny?" Ian asked, and I realized I was grinning.

"Sorry," I said. "It's just, there's this pun, in Greek, on one of her titles-- or two of her titles. Philommeides, or Philommedes-- it's easy to misspell, or mispronounce. Philommeides means 'she who loves laughter.' But Philom _medes_ means, uh--" I grinned again. "Well, basically, 'she who loves penis.'"

Ian blinked. "She-- wait, do people _call_ her that? Like to her face?"

"She's the goddess of sex," I said. "It's not a secret or anything. But the other one is true, too-- laughter-loving. She laughs a lot-- well, around me, anyway. She thinks I'm funny." 

"You are funny," Ian said. 

"Thanks. She's--" I hesitated. "Ian, I don't know what she's going to say about you, about whether you can stay here or not. She's not exactly... predictable. But I know this spell isn't something she'd approve of, not for me. I can't-- take you-- like this, not without being sure you really want it—and there’s no way I can be sure of that."

"Sure there is," he said. "Ask me."

I peered at him. "Ask you?"

"Yes," he said. "Order me to tell the truth."

I blinked at him for probably about a full minute, and then I said, "Tell me the truth about how you feel about having sex with me, Ian. The whole truth."

"I want you," he said softly, his green eyes locked into mine. "I’m scared of going back to America, and I’m scared of staying here, and I’m scared of your goddess, and you’re the only thing in my life right now that I feel good about. I’m not scared of you. You make me laugh. You’d rather hurt yourself than risk hurting me. And I want to get as close to you as I can, for whatever time we have. Please, Cassie."

I watched him, and then I opened my arms, and from the prescribed ten feet away, he lunged into them, wrapping his own arms around me. 

“And you want me too,” he said, and kissed me again, shooting a lightning bolt of sparks down my spine.

We kissed for what seemed like forever, holding each other hard enough to hurt, and I was ready to come just from the taste of his lips, their warmth and softness on mine. I was in heat, rubbing my breasts up against his chest, the worn cotton of his T-shirt and the smell of almonds and I wanted to eat his neck--

\--and then I got scared and angry, for no reason, right as he pulled away. Not angry. Frustrated. I looked up at him, and he had the exact expression on his face I thought must be on mine: an “oh, goddammit” expression. Except I didn’t know why we were feeling like that, until he said it.

"Cassie,” he said, “we don't have a condom."

I could have burst into tears again, I think, but I just kind of let my head drop against him and laughed instead. Of course we didn't have a condom. It's not like the Amazons keep stocked up. 

“We can’t have sex without a condom, Cassie,” he said, holding me at arm's length.

"I know that," I said, trying to get back into his arms. I was horny enough to hump his leg, but I wasn't quite far gone enough to suggest that unprotected sex with a guy who'd spent the last three years getting fucked by strangers for drug money was an acceptable risk. "It's okay, we don't have to have sex, just-- oh, fuck, Ian, I need _something_ , your fingers, anything, just-- please-- I'm about to fucking explode here--"

He slid his hand in, between the elastic waistband of my pajamas and the mound of my belly, and had three fingers inside, fast as if that had been an order, even though I was sure it hadn't been, even in my desperation I'd made sure-- and I screamed. It occurred to me in the midst of a blinding orgasm that had me sagging in his arms that maybe the sheer force of my _wanting_ was enough for his poor abused mind to read as an order-- a series of orders. Except that couldn't be true, or he would have been fucking me, really fucking me, balls deep, his hips pushing me up off the ground, because I don't think I've ever wanted anything as bad as I wanted his cock right then. There wasn't room in my mind for anything else as I hung on him, literally hung on him, like _swooning_ or some romance novel shit like that, while he fucked me hard with his fingers, and I screamed again as the ground started to shake.

Ian's fingers pushed deeper into me, as if to hide, as the floor trembled under us. "What..."

"Don't stop!" I ordered, and so he didn't, and I came again, a screaming quivering bundle of nerve and muscle and need and wetness, and he whimpered as the house quivered, too, the floor trembling, dishes dancing in the cabinets.

"Please, Cassie--" His fingers were still pounding into me as hard as ever, but he was scared, and it worked into me, too, a little edge of fear, even though all it should have been to me was joy. "Something's happening--"

"Stop," I gasped, and so he did, and I pulled him into my arms, kissing and kissing his hair, whispering, "It's okay, Ian, it's okay, it's going to be okay--"

"What is it?" he pleaded, and I dragged myself away and to my numbed feet, tottered on unreliable legs to the window. He followed me, and I pointed at what I'd known would be there. From the direction of the royal hall a pillar of glittering golden smoke, bright as a firework, arched to earth from an oddly solid-looking cloud.

"The goddess," I said, as gently as I could, to his white face. "She's early."


	10. Chapter Nine: In which a number of similes are employed

"No," said Ian. "Please-- not yet-- please, it can't be yet--"

"It's okay," I said again. "Ian, it's going to be okay. I'll explain everything and– we'll get this all sorted out, okay?"

"I thought we had more time," Ian whispered. 

I should have been more sympathetic, I know-- and it did hurt me to see how frightened he was-- but my goddess was in her temple, and it was hard not to feel all was right with the world. I sat down carefully on the floor, and Ian eased himself down next to me; I put my arm around him. The lust was gone; I just wanted to comfort him, and to make him understand why I was happy.

"Listen," I said softly. "We'll get dressed, and I'll take you down to the temple. I'm sure she'll be expecting us-- even if she didn't feel what happened between us just now, Hippolyta will have filled her in by the time we get there."

"She might have felt it?" Ian asked.

"Might have. It's kind of her jurisdiction. L-- lust. Desire."

"Will she be, uh--" Ian was trembling a little bit, against me. "Is she, uh-- will the fact that I'm male be--"

"Oh, she doesn't hate men," I said. "She loves them. In her way."

"Does her way involve grievous bodily harm?" 

"No, not at all," I smiled. "More like-- well, she doesn't exactly take men all that seriously. Not in a mean way, just sort of in an 'ooh, aren't you just the cutest strapping warrior!' way. She won't hurt you-- the worst she'll do is make you feel a little bit silly."

"I can live with that," he said.

"Although," I added thoughtfully, "come to think of it, you won't understand anything she says, anyway. She only speaks in Greek. When she's on Themyscira. Which is the only place she comes any more, besides Olympus. She understands English, though, so if she speaks to you, you can just tell her respectfully that you don't understand Greek. In English, I mean."

"Define 'respectfully,' please," he said, pulling a little bit away from me and looking at my face; he seemed to be a little bit less in comfort-seeking mode and more in information-seeking mode, which I took as a good sign. "Are we talking more 'yes ma'am' or more 'yes worshipful holy one as down on my hands and knees I crawl'?"

"Um, kneeling probably wouldn't be a bad idea," I said. "At least at first. And you should call her 'goddess.' But don't– you shouldn't be nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about." 

" _You_ look nervous," he said, peering at me. "And if _you're_ nervous, I'm pretty sure I'm petrified."

I laughed, hoping it didn't sound hysterical. "No, no, no. I just-- I always get like this when she– and I didn't know she was going to be early. I'm all– I usually have time to settle down before I– enter her presence." 

"Petrified _and_ jealous," he said, with a tiny smile. "Do you have a crush on her?"

"I worship her," I said, grinning. "But she's a goddess, so that's okay."

 

 

He wanted to take a shower before we got dressed, but I wouldn't let him. Aphrodite _loves_ the smells of arousal and orgasm, especially female orgasm; showering them off before heading for her temple would be like conscientiously removing a yarmulke before synagogue. We dressed, me in my chiton, him in his worn, lavender-smelling jeans and T-shirt.

"I can't meet a goddess dressed like this," said Ian.

"She won't care," I assured him. "All men's clothing is equally funny-looking to her."

"Oh," said Ian, "well, that makes me feel a _lot_ better."

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, and he slipped an arm around me and leaned down to kiss me full on the mouth. I kissed back. A lot.

"I bet Aphrodite felt _that_ ," I said, breathless, when we broke apart, and he gave me another small smile as I slipped my hand in his. "Hey-- Ian?"

"Yeah, Cassie?" he said quietly.

"Whatever her decision is--" I hesitated for just a second. "It'll be-- all right. I know you don't belong to her, so you can't really-- trust her, the way I do. But just know that I believe everything's going to be okay. For you, too."

"Okay," he said, looking-- maybe-- just the slightest bit less pale. "I don't believe it, but it's nice that you do."

We walked to the temple in silence, hand in hand.

As we entered the hall-- Ian clinging hard to my hand-- the goddess turned from intent conversation with Hippolyta, over whom she towered, and smiled. Ian cried out and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around my legs and burying his face against my hip. I didn't blame him. Aphrodite wasn't wearing her fullest glory– only her most adept priestesses ever look on that, and then only after a lot of ritual preparation– but even so, she glowed like a nuclear reactor, her draperies accentuating rather than concealing the impossible perfection of her naked body, all gleam and shadow, bright curves and dizzying hollows. I think I'm actually mostly straight– my fucked-up affair with Diana notwithstanding– but her effect on me had nothing to do with that. It's hard to explain if you haven't seen her, but the first time I saw her I fell flat on my face, and I guess I haven't ever really gotten back up, not all the way. 

I stayed standing, though, and laid a hand on Ian's head, looking into her eyes.

" _My heart rejoices in your presence, Lady,_ " I said, in my most careful and reverent Greek. I'd had practice with that sentence, that and the next one: " _Would it please you to temper your glory to the weakness of mortal sight_?" 

As she moved towards us, there was a flash of light and she changed her aspect. She was still stunningly perfect and inhumanly tall, but her beauty now was less blinding divinity and more A-list movie star, and her still-glittering (but now mercifully opaque) dress wouldn't have looked too odd on the red carpet. 

" _Little sister,_ " she said in Greek, her voice all the dark, throaty sweetness of all the bedroom murmurs of the world. " _You are most welcome to my presence. As is your consort. Rise, little one,_ " she said to Ian, " _and do not be afraid_." 

" _Thank you, my sister,_ " I said gratefully. She likes me to call her that, for some reason-- I mean, yes, we have the same dad, but considering that the dad in question is Zeus, it's kind of like me getting all sentimental over a lemur on account of our common ancestor. Not that I don't get all warm and shivery when she calls me _little sister_ in that voice of hers. " _He does not understand Greek; may I have permission to translate your words for him?_ "

" _By all means,_ " she said kindly. " _And you need not speak Greek to me, dear heart."_

"Thank you," I said again, this time in English. "It's okay, Ian. She says to stand up, and not to be afraid." As I helped him up, I suddenly registered exactly what Aphrodite had said. " _Consort?_ No-- I mean, forgive me, _beautiful one_ , but he isn't my-- my--" 

Her laughter pealed out, rich and golden. " _No? What shall I call him to please you, then? Not your paramour, for I see you have not yet fully known one another. Not your suitor, for I see, too, that he has already won what he sought. Not your spouse, for you have not raised him so high, but not your slave, for you have not suffered him to be laid so low. What is he to you, if not your consort?_ " 

Between her Greek, which makes Hippolyta's sound slangy and modern, and the distraction of her sheer _presence_ , half the time I don't know what the hell she's talking about. Plus Ian was distracting me a little, with his death grip on my hands. But I thought I'd grasped her train of thought.

"She's asking if you're my boyfriend," I told Ian, who stared at me as if I were speaking Greek too; he was pale and shaky, and I wasn't sure he was taking in a word. "I'm not sure what to call him, _laughter-loving one_. It's-- I mean, we like each other. I guess you could say we're, um, involved." 

" _It is no surprise to her elder sister that Cassandra should find herself involved with a man,_ " said the goddess, smiling, and again, it took me a second to figure out what she was on about. My name in Greek means "entangler of men," and she'd used the same word that means "entangle" to mean "involve." Even goddesses can't always resist bad puns. 

"I didn't entangle him," I said, looking at Hippolyta. "Your priestess bound him to me."

" _That she did,_ " said Aphrodite, sobering, " _and it was ill done, for she might have done you both grave hurt in so doing, and placed all my Themyscira in danger. Peace, daughter,_ " she said to the queen, who had flushed a dull red and made as if to speak. " _Leave us._ " 

Hippolyta did, without another word. 

See why I get excited when the goddess visits?

When Hippolyta was gone, Aphrodite held out a hand to Ian. " _Come, boy, and let me look at you._ " 

"It's okay," I said again to Ian. "She just wants to– meet you."

After a second's hesitation, he let go of me and stepped forward, shivering visibly, his head bowed low. She touched his chin, turning his face upwards, the impossible beauty of her face expressing such sweet interest that I actually had a flash of jealousy. I wanted her to look at _me_ that way. This is the effect she has.

" _Eyes green as the sunny Aegean_ ," she said softly, " _and a mouth that puts me in mind of my own brave Aeneas, when he was wounded by the arrow of the Rutulian. A comely face, and a modest, pleasing look about him_." 

"She thinks you're cute," I told Ian, and he blushed crimson as Aphrodite laughed. She caressed his cheek, and he shivered, his eyes wide. Then she spoke, to my utter astonishment, in English. 

"I would not have thee fear me, pretty youth," she said, almost tenderly, with a lilting accent that made me inappropriately weak at the knees. "I am sister to thine heart's lady, and while thou pleasest her, great is the good will I bear thee for her sake." 

"Thank you, g-goddess," he said hoarsely, as she ran her beautiful hands through his hair, smiling indulgently.

"Back to thy lady's keeping, sweetling," she said, spinning him around and giving him a gentle push in my direction, "ere I am beguiled to steal thee for myself. _I like him, sister_ ," she said, switching back into Greek as Ian stumbled back into my arms. I gave him a quick, reassuring hug. " _What is his name_?" 

"Ian," I said, and Ian looked at me with dizzy expectancy. "No, I mean, she asked your name. She says she likes you. My thanks for your great kindness to him, _golden one_ , but I'm not actually his-- uh-- lady." 

" _Is it so?_ " said Aphrodite, looking grave. " _Think well before you repudiate him._ "

"I'm not rejecting him. I just-- it's complicated. Please, my sister, before we talk any more about me being his lady, can you just lift the binding of obedience? It's really stressing us both out."

" _But that is what I mean, when I advise you to think well,_ " she said gently. " _If I lift the binding, then I cannot allow Ian to continue to live among my people._ "

"You can't? But why?" I demanded, adding a little belatedly, " _Goddess of all peoples?_ "

" _Not for any ill will I bear the youth," she answered, "nor from any real fear that he might harm my daughters. Merely because my Themyscira is a haven for women to live in peace with their own kind, and a man has no place here-- except as the obedient and submitted ward of one of my chosen. Thus far, Hippolyta was right in her judgment, though wrong in her action_."

"But if it was wrong, then why can't you reverse it?" I asked. "Sister, it's been hurting him, _I've_ been hurting him--"

" _I know,_ " she said, sobering, and looking down at me with such compassion and love that my legs almost gave out on me. " _The binding was ill done indeed, dear heart. Hippolyta took no heed of the tinder before her flint was struck. For this is not the first binding that has been laid upon your consort's heart, my Cassandra._ "

"It isn't?" I asked, bewildered.

" _His heart was bound by an enemy,_ " said Aphrodite, or at least I was pretty sure that was what she'd said. 

"What _echthros_?" I asked, confused, thinking of Ares.

" _An evil man_ ," said Aphrodite sadly, " _who bound him to obedience with the bonds of love and desire, but the evil man did not understand that such bonds are not like knotted rope or cold iron, but like tendrilly vine, strong and ever growing in strength and beauty while they live, but brittle in death. So the enemy was cruel, and your Ian's obedience starved and wasted with his love, and died, and was broken, and its remnant lay dark and dry on his heart, until Hippolyta bound him to you, little understanding that in her binding lived again his anguish at the cruelty of his heart's first owner._ " 

I thought about this for a minute, looking at Ian.

"What?" he whispered. "What's she saying?"

I swallowed. "That– I think she must mean-- that when Hippolyta put the binding on you, it was worse than she thought it would be, because Rob– because the reason you-- obeyed him--? She says-- I think she's saying-- that at first it was because you-- well-- loved him." 

"Yeah," he said, but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at the goddess, and his eyes were bright with tears as he stepped forward, to her, speaking only to her. "Yes. Fucking hell, yes. I did love the cocksucker. He took care of me. Better than anyone else had, since my mom. I thought-- I thought he loved me. I thought-- he'd saved me."

Aphrodite's face made sorrow look like the most beautiful thing in the world. Everyone should look so good when they cry; not that she was crying, or if she was, the tears weren't wet.

"I'm sorry," said Ian, and his tears were human and wet and messy, pouring down his thin, sharp-boned face. "I was-- stupid. Dear goddess, I'm so fucking sorry." 

"Be at peace, child," Aphrodite said gently in English, and reached out to touch his wet cheek. "Thou'rt innocent of sin against me."

He sank slowly to his knees and buried his face against the folds of her robe, and she looked back up at me. It wasn't until then that I realized I was crying too.

" _The young man has less cause to repent than he knows_ ," the goddess told me softly, as I tried to dry my tears without benefit of her dress, " _for I owe him and you a great debt. For had his heart not been fertile ground, and had his lady been less careful in its tending, the binding Hippolyta placed would not have flourished as it did. It was not her power that was greater than she knew, but his and yours, that strengthened the bond beyond any power she could compel._ "

"We did?" I blinked, and sniffed ungracefully as I tried to understand. "But-- that's bad, isn't it? You said the binding was-- badly done."

" _Indeed_ ," she said. " _But just as a child, in its innocent gamboling play, may find a pretty striped kitten, and lift the little warm purring thing in its arms, to carry it home, and feed it scraps of meat, and let it sleep at the foot of the bed--_ " 

Spontaneous epic similes: an occupational hazard of talking to classical goddesses.

" _\--little understanding that its sleek needle-toothed companion is no mere cat, but the cub of a bloodthirsty man-eating tiger--_ "

"Whoa, didn't see that coming," I said.

" _No more did Hippolyta_ ," said the goddess, smiling at me. " _So although we may well say the housing of a tiger cub was badly done in the first place, yet if the child should treat the cub as a tiger, with dread and shouts of anger and dismay, the tiger may turn and devour the child that knows it for an enemy. Whereas if the child shall tend it carefully, with gentle words and strokings, the tiger shall grow no less a tiger, but it shall know the child as its friend, that what was ill done may grow well done, by gentleness and well-earned trust._ "

"Oh," I said. "Um. So if I hadn't been nice to him, Ian would have eaten me?"

Ian lifted his tear-stained face from Aphrodite's robe and looked at me.

"I'm paraphrasing," I told him. "Ian's not a tiger, _bright one_. Hippolyta acted like he'd hurt somebody if she didn't bind him, but he wouldn't, I know he wouldn't."

" _No, Cassandra_ ," she said, still smiling. " _Your Ian is not the tiger. The binding itself is. Without due care, it might have driven even a gentle-hearted youth to madness and blood frenzy, and the daughters of Themyscira would have known grave peril. But that vine which would have been blackened by carelessness or cruelty has blossomed, and it tangles the boy to you, by your own tending, and by my gift, if you will have him._ "

" _Have him_?" I echoed in Greek. "But-- he can only stay-- if you leave the binding where it is?"

" _Just so_ ," she said, as Ian, still on his knees at her feet, watched my face. " _I will not part my little sister from her consort, nor cause her to live in exile on account of her heart's choice, while he is subject to her will through my power. But if Cassandra cast him off, he has no business here, and I will bear him back to the world of men myself._ " 

"Cassie?" said Ian softly, and I knew what my face must look like. 

"Please," I said to the goddess. "He's-- it's dangerous for him-- back in the world of men. His-- his _echthros_ \--" --enemy-- "--wants to hurt him."

" _Then keep him safe at your side,_ " said Aphrodite easily, " _where no enemy may touch him. Unless he does not please you? Ah, but the blood in your cheeks tells a different tale._ "

"But that's-- something else," I said, blushing harder. "The binding's been doing something to me, too. I've been feeling-- affected. And sort of-- compelled? Not to obey him, but to-- uh--"

" _Tend to him_ ," Aphrodite supplied. " _Of course. That is the--_ " She used a Greek word I didn't know. " _\--of his obedience, that she who commands his heart should also care for it. You wished to tend to him, so the binding offers you the means to do so, by feeling his needs and desires in your own flesh._ "

" _His needs and desires?_ " I repeated, thinking of the almost-uncontrollable urge to jump him. "Those are-- I mean-- his?"

She nodded. " _Unless they are your own_."

"Oh, well," I said, "that just clears everything right up."

Lucky for me she thinks I'm cute; instead of smiting me where I stood for sarcasm in the presence of divinity, she just laughed.

" _When you pledged yourself to me,_ Cassie," she said, " _I did not promise you would stay untangled_."

She'd never called me Cassie before. Of course, it's pretty close to the word "tangle," in Greek. I was starting to wish my mom had named me Tiffany. 

"Goddess?" said Ian, very unexpectedly, from the floor at her feet.

"Yes, child," she said in English, smiling down on him benignly, instead of smiting him too for interrupting a conversation between two women. Two feminine entities. She really _did_ like him.

"May I--" Ian cleared his throat. "May Cassie and I-- talk? Um-- alone? Would you mind?"

"Since thou ask it, _youth entangled by Cassandra_ ," she said, "I would not for the world have it otherwise. _Sister, I have other business that awaits my tending. I must speak with Hippolyta, and-- well, let that be. No one will disturb you here, until I come again._ "


	11. Chapter Ten: In which safe sex is discussed

When she was gone, I sat down next to Ian, who looked up into my eyes, his face solemn.

"See what I mean?" I said, and he nodded.

"I do," he said. "If I knew that's what God looked like, I'd have prayed more often."

"Goddess," I corrected. "And she told me-- early on-- that all love-- and, well good sex-- is an act of worship. To her."

He raised his eyebrows, and I added, "She said-- remember she said that you were innocent of sin against her. Even if-- I mean, Rob maybe wasn't your best choice, but that doesn't mean you didn't love-- well. She really likes you, Ian. I think she wants me to keep you." I blushed. "Um, if you want to be-- kept."

He didn't say anything for a bit, and then he squeezed my hand.

"Cassie," he said, "look-- we haven't known each other for that long, either-- but we're already--"

"Entangled," I said, and he nodded. 

"But I'm-- trouble, Cass," he said quietly. "For everybody who-- gets entangled-- with me. I've proved that plenty of times. And I've figured-- plenty of times-- where it would be better if I just checked out. Don't argue," he added firmly, when I opened my mouth to protest. "You don't know. And I don't really want to talk about it. I'm just saying-- I mean, you were so mad when I got here. And you know, I agreed with you. I couldn't believe Diana was-- inflicting me-- on anybody. I thought, I just thought, you were right to be so mad. I just thought I'd keep my head down and try not to piss you off, or get in your way, and-- well, do whatever you wanted-- until your goddess came, and then I sort of figured she'd kill me, or, whatever, send me home. Same difference."

"It's not," I said, softly, not wanting to argue, but not wanting to let that pass either. "You could live. Back home."

He shook his head. "Not-- not well. It's not just Rob. I don't know how to live, there. I don't know what to do. There, I'm a junkie and a whore, and if I go back there, I'll go back to being those things eventually, because that's all I know how to be. Here, I might be able to figure out something new. Especially if you help me." He smiled faintly at me. "And I can't fuck up too badly, not with an obedience spell on me."

"Yeah," I said. "If anyone's going to fuck up your life, it's going to be me."

"Right," he said, almost cheerfully. "Well, you've got a better track record than me, when it comes to not fucking up my life. But, you know-- I could still fuck yours up."

I didn't really know what to say to that, but after a minute he said, "But-- Cassie-- look. Don't get mad, okay?"

"I'll try," I answered seriously.

"It's just," he began. "You don't-- seem all that happy to me. Here."

I was quiet for a bit before I said, "I'm happy enough. I'm not-- maybe happy isn't the word. Content."

"Are you even that, though?" he asked. "Or are you just-- kind of-- not in pain? I mean, you don't really have any close friends here, except Diana, and she's always gone anyway, and you live alone and you work pretty much alone, except for that kid who thinks I'm a mutant. And your job is sort of-- I mean it's great, it's nice, but for a girl like you, it seems more like a hobby than a real job. It's like you retired-- not just from being a superhero--"

"I was never really a superhero," I interrupted automatically. "I was just a sidekick."

"Okay, then not just from that-- but from life, you know? Not that you couldn't be happy here, make a real life, but-- are you? Have you?"

We sat in silence for a little bit. I don't know what he was thinking about; I was the one who broke the silence. I said, "When Connor died--"

Then I broke off. I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say.

"You loved him," Ian said gently, and I nodded.

"It sounds so stupid," I said miserably. "I was only sixteen-- and we didn't even have that much time together-- but when he died--"

"It doesn't sound stupid," Ian said. "The goddess-- what did she say to you about Connor? I mean, when you first got here? Did she mention him?"

"She said--" I shook my head. "You'll laugh. You'll think it's stupid."

Ian looked shocked. "Cassie, I won't. How could you think that?"

"It's going to sound weird in English," I said weakly. "Okay. She said-- she said we loved each other-- rarely well. She said-- our love-- was sweet to her lips-- and warm in her, um, her-- belly."

"Oh," said Ian softly, "wow."

I nodded, suddenly on the verge of tears. "It was-- it was so good-- with him. And-- I thought we had just started, you know? I thought-- there was going to be-- so much more. I thought our life was starting. And then his was just-- over. And I didn't know where to go. What to do. When Diana took me-- I just thought-- why not? Whatever, you know?"

"I know," said Ian. 

I looked up at him, his serious face, as he went on, "Cassie, if you were happy-- if you'd been happy when I got here, if you had this great life, with, you know, friends and-- I'm not sure I could stay. I'd rather take my chances back on the mainland than stay here and risk ruining your life-- if you were happy. But you're not, are you?"

It took a little while before I shook my head. 

"I know it sounds like a fucked-up reason to-- do anything," he said. "But it's true. I want to stay because I know what happens if I go back home, and I don't know what happens if I stay here. And I feel like I know what happens to you if I go home-- and if I stay here-- well."

I raised my eyebrows. "You going to fix my life?"

"No," he said. "I can't do that. But I can spice it up a little. And I can't hurt you too bad, not-- bound-- like this. So." He looked at me: not challenging, not pleading, just asking. "Can I stay?"

"Yeah," I said. "If you're really sure it's what you want."

"Thanks," he said, and then he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "Cassie, thank you."

I pulled our hands back towards me, and kissed his hand too.

"I'll try," I began. "I'll do my best. For you."

"I'll try too," he said. "I mean-- for you."

 

 

When the goddess came back in, she found me sitting on the floor, him with his head in my lap, me petting his hair. He sat up when she came in. Aphrodite came up to us, knelt down beside us and put her hands on us, one on each back. 

" _My dear children_ ," she said softly, and then she said it again in English. "My dear children."

"He wants to stay," I said, and she nodded and answered in English again, though she seemed to be speaking only to me.

"Wilt thou have him?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"It is well," she said softly. "Be to thy subject a good and gracious liege, little sister. And thou, mine Ian, serve thou thy lady with eagerness, and she shall be well pleased in thee, and raise thee up from thy knees, to gather kisses as well as kindness from her lips."

I blushed. Ian did too. That reminded me.

"Goddess," I said, "um, about sex."

She smiled at me. " _Yes_?"

"We, um." I hesitated. "We don't have-- protection. Um, I mean, you know. Condoms."

"Ah," she said, and reached for Ian, who held still as she put one hand on his shoulder and then leaned down slightly to put the other on his groin; he whimpered but didn't pull away. After a moment she let him go and looked at me gravely.

" _The boy is diseased_ ," she said. " _Shall I cure him?_ "

I was startled. "Can you?"

" _I can_ ," she said. " _These diseases are my province, not that of Hades. I would have no power to steal him from my uncle's cold hands, but what he carries, I can cure._ "

"Ian, she says you have STDs, but she can cure them if you want," I said, and the goddess glanced speculatively from him to me as he blinked and nodded.

"Yes," I said to her. "Please."

She got a look of concentration on her face and put her hand back on his cock; he whimpered again, and then stared at her hand, and then moaned softly, gasping as if he were coming. Aphrodite smiled absently, without looking at his face, and then took her hand off him.

" _It is done_ ," she said, and switched to English to add, to Ian, "Child, thou art cleansed. Have no fear of polluting thy liege lady with thy service. _As for other protection_ ," she said, turning back to me, " _though the courses of the moon are no province of mine, but of my sister Artemis, yet I can grant this gift to my Cassandra, that she shall bear no child against her will, but the reluctant egg shall be defended against its pursuer, however welcoming the womb._ "

"Oh," I said, a little nonplussed by the technical talk. "Um-- thank you."

She smiled. " _You are welcome._ "

"She says I won't get pregnant if I don't want to," I told Ian. "So, uh, I guess we aren't going to need a condom after all."

"Clean and flat-bellied as a vestal thou shalt be," Aphrodite agreed in English, "though warmed by brighter flame."

Ian put up a hand to his mouth and coughed slightly. The goddess smiled at him.

"Thy consort seeketh to hide his mirth," she said to me, still in English. "Hast not told him, sister, that in heaven and earth alike I am named the lover of laughter?"

"I did tell him that," I said, grinning at Ian, who took his hand away from his mouth and smiled back at the goddess.

"As rain to the new green shoots of spring," she told him, "as the milky breast to the newborn babe, so laughter to love, little one. And more besides. For that a rope knotted about the neck of one, its end lashed to the wrist of another, should grow a vine a-bud with leaf and blossom, and ornament to both, is transmutation strange as alchemy, and wrought by rare admixture, but the greatest part is laughter."

"Goddess," I said, "um, no offense, but I might understand your Greek better than your English."

"No, I got it," said Ian. "She said the obedience spell sucked, but we made something cool out of it because I mocked your Batman pajamas."

The goddess really laughed at that, a full-throated symphony of bells in every pitch from Notre Dame to sleigh.

" _I am well pleased in your consort, sister,_ ," she said finally, still chuckling. " _Have no fear concerning Hippolyta-- I have spoken with her, and she will be more kindly disposed towards you and him in the future. And now--_ " She rose, like a ballerina, or a flower blooming in time-lapse, with a glorious unfurling of limbs.

"You're leaving?" Ian and I asked simultaneously, and in the same plaintive tone. 

" _I am always with you, my children_ ," she said, and then she wasn't there any more.

I translated that last bit to Ian, who looked about as bereft as I felt, and added, "She really likes you. A lot. She might like you better than me."

He smiled a little. "But I'm a boy."

"Well, but she likes boys," I said. "I mean, Themyscira's not her only project. So-- I guess we should--"

We both looked up as Hippolyta came in; I stood up, but Ian stayed sitting, and put his hand on my ankle.

" _I owe you my apology, Cassandra_ ," Hippolyta told me, not looking at Ian. " _The goddess tells me I have been less than fair to you, and to the boy. Will you forgive me?_ "

"Of course," I said, and then remembered to speak Greek. " _Yes._ "

" _I will do my best to make reparation, as needed_ ," she said, rather crisply. " _Can I do anything for you at the moment?_ "

" _I should take him home_ ," I said, and held out my hand to Ian to help him up. He stood, and moved a little closer to me, looking at the floor.

" _Very well_ ," she said, and stood aside as I led Ian out of the temple and into the sunshine outside.


	12. Chapter Eleven: In which safe sex is not discussed

Ian and I held hands on the way back to my house, and it felt good. At least, I felt good, and I had to assume he was feeling good too, or I would have been feeling less good myself, on account of the vines that had twined between our hearts and whatnot. He was smiling, anyway, a tiny private smile that wasn’t private from me, because I wasn’t looking at anything but him. To hell with watching my feet. I’d tripped over my chiton in front of him before and I’d probably do it five more times before I did anything suave to counter the impression.

“Diana’s going to be thrilled,” I said finally, about halfway back. “Divine justification for her stubbornness. The goddess might even make her mother apologize to her too.”

“Too?”

“Oh, the queen apologized to me,” I said. “And to you, kind of. For being such a bitch. I kind of accepted on your behalf. Hope that’s okay.”

“No, I hoped you’d tell her I hate her forever,” said Ian, and I grinned. “You do anything on my behalf you want, Cassie.”

“Yeah?” I squeezed his hand. “You want me to tell Diana on your behalf that she’s an inconsiderate jerk?”

Ian looked horrified. “Cassie! She’s not-- I mean-- she saved--”

“Both of us,” I agreed, figuring he didn’t want to say _me_ in case I said _yeah, and wasn’t that a favor to the world_ , or some such. “Yeah, she’s always saving people. Me, you. Swooping down and flying them off to paradise. Sometimes stacking them on top of each other, for greater convenience Who wouldn’t love that?”

“I’m sorry she dumped me on you,” said Ian, subdued. 

“No.” I squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean that. I’m glad you’re here. And you’re right, Diana’s great. I just-- maybe-- know her a little too well. I was her sidekick, you know.”

“I don’t know much about sidekicks,” he said thoughtfully.

“We’re basically a tie-in for the teen market,” I told him. “Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl-- for awhile there, there was even a Wonder Tot. Turned out to be a time-travelling version of Diana, though.”

“I never know when you’re messing with me,” said Ian.

“Ian! I’m hurt. When have I ever messed with you?”

“I just said I don’t know,” said Ian. “You’re serious with this Wonder Tot thing.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But she wasn’t a sidekick. Sidekicks are... teenagers. Or tweens-- I think the original Robin was maybe twelve, when he started. Batman’s adopted kid, you know. It’s like that program, Big Brothers, Big Sisters. Except superheroes have to find kids who are at least a little bit powered-up themselves, so they don’t get killed. Daughters of Zeus.”

“So Diana’s like your big sister,” said Ian.

“Kind of.” I shrugged. “Was. I’m not her sidekick any more. And I was never much of a protegee. It’s hard to live up to an immaculately conceived Amazon princess when you’re just another misbegotten daughter of Zeus and an archaeologist.”

“Yeah, you’re the sixth one of those I’ve dated,” said Ian, and I glanced at him and laughed.

“Is that what we’re doing?” I asked. “Dating? Am I your _girlfriend_?”

Ian blushed. I sort of loved it when he did that.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What was it the goddess said you were? My _lady_?”

“You call me that and I’m calling you _sweetling_ ,” I threatened as we reached the house. “It’s great that we’ve got divine sanction and all, but I think we’re better off working out our own terminology. I’m okay being your girlfriend. You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Um,” said Ian. “I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge.”

“Hey!” I let go of his hand to pick up the casserole dish that was steaming on the doorstep, and kicked the door to see if I’d remembered to lock it. Either I hadn’t, or I’d just broken the lock. Oh well, it wasn’t a very good lock anyway. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re kind of out of my league,” said Ian, following me inside.

“I’ve done enough intra-league dating to last me a lifetime, thanks.” I put the casserole dish down on the table and turned back to him. “I’m sort of psyched to date a guy who’s not actually _in_ a league.”

“You mean like a teen superhero league?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Especially since I’m not actually a teen any more. So will you be my boyfriend?”

Ian smiled and looked down. “Just like that? Don’t you have your fraternity pin to pin on me or something?”

“You can have my chiton pin,” I offered, reaching for it.

“I was just kidding,” said Ian, blushing.

“Oh, good,” I said. “Because I just remembered that if I take out this pin, my whole outfit falls completely off my body.”

“In that case, I wasn’t kidding at all,” said Ian. “If I don’t get a pin, the deal’s off.”

I laughed and pulled out the pin. The chiton didn’t actually fall right off, but I helped it a little.

“Cassie,” Ian breathed, and reached for me, resting his hands very lightly on my naked shoulders. “Are you-- are we sure-- like a hundred percent sure-- this is safe?”

“I have the word of my goddess,” I said, and reached up to pull his head down towards mine.

 

We managed to make it to the bed this time. Once there, Ian lay on his back while I took off his clothes, resisting the urge to rip or tear-- after all, this was the only set he had. We’d have to do something about that. Maybe Diana could bring over a couple of L.L. Bean catalogues on her next run.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, a second before I got his T-shirt stuck on his head. I peeled it carefully off, leaving his hair only slightly more rumpled-looking than before.

“So are you,” I said, trying to kiss his face and work his belt buckle at the same time. His hands touched my back, very lightly, and I felt his hands tremble against my skin. “Are you cold?”

“Nervous,” he said, with a pale smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Since you were with a girl?” I guessed, and he nodded. “Well, you already got into my pants-- figuratively speaking-- and I came like a million times, so consider yourself pre-approved. What is this zipper’s-- there we go.”

I had to leave his face for awhile to get his pants all the way down, and on my way back up I got a little sidetracked. His cock was only the second one I’d ever seen in my life, and the differences were intriguing. 

“Oh... _fuck_ ,” he gasped as I took the head in my mouth and suckled experimentally. “Cassie-- baby--”

My mouth was too full to answer, but his side of the conversation trailed off anyway when I got more of him into my mouth and started to suck in earnest. 

It felt good-- amazing, actually-- to have him in my mouth, tight between my lips and tongue and cheek so that I couldn’t speak at all, an ecstasy coursing through me that I didn’t think was all mine. He was so happy-- and awestruck-- that I felt it in all my nerves, felt like the beautiful woman he saw me as, my mouth the portal to a world of glory that his cock hadn’t even known to want. I sucked him like a porn star, feeling through the ridges and veins in his erection exactly what he wanted, and doing it so right he started to cry, and I felt that too, a heat and moistening in my eyes that didn’t stop me until his balls went tight and hard in my hand and he shot off down my throat. I swallowed on cue, sucked harder, and he screamed and bucked while I sucked down the last of his seed, then pulled my mouth lingeringly off him, lapping up the last remnants on his glistening, softening cock. then licking my lips in satisfaction. I licked the creases where his thighs met his flat, hard belly, with its dusty trail of black hair up from the nest of his pubes to the dent of his navel.

“Shhhh,” I said, climbing him, back to his neck, his wet face, kissing both with lips and tongue. “Don’t-- no, I’m sorry, you can cry, you can do anything you want. It’s okay, Ian.”

He clutched at me, pulled my head to his mouth and kissed me like the only oxygen in the room was in my lungs. I kissed him back, hugged him back, half my fingers in his hair, the other half making dents in his shoulder, and against my belly I felt his cock nudging upwards again.

“I want you inside me,” I whispered, and he whined a little, the tiniest sound against my neck. “Ian-- can you--”

“I can,” he said, and pushed his hips up against me. “If you-- Cassie--”

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, and fumbled for him, feeling him hardening in answer to my need. “I want you hard, Ian, your cock hard inside me, now--”

I was so wet that I only had to open my legs to him to feel him slide in. I was tight, too, closed up from four years of chastity, and I moaned when his erection met resistance, whimpered like the first time, but I lowered myself all the way onto him, biting my lips, and his eyes looking up at me were huge and dark and wet, rimmed with pink, his nails digging into my shoulders as if it were him hurting. My hands found his skin, his upper arms, and dug in too, and he smiled up at me.

“Yes,” I said, my thigh muscles burning as I rode him, and he echoed like a precipice, “Yes, yes, yes...” while I lifted and sank onto his rock-hard length until I came so hard I screamed out, and turned the second half of the scream into, “Come!”

He did, crying out too, and my hands went to his face so I could feel the convulsions of the muscles there in his release. I had tightened so hard around him that I could feel that too, and it seemed like forever before he was soft enough that I could soften myself and lie down on top of him, his cock still tucked inside me.

We lay there for what seemed like such a long time that I wouldn’t swear I didn’t fall asleep before he said, “Cassie...”

“Ian,” I answered, and lifted a numb-fingered hand to touch his sweaty hair. 

“I was good,” he whispered, and I didn’t know if it was a question, but I answered it anyway, just in case.

“Unbelievably, fantastically sensational,” I said truthfully. “How about me?”

He laughed.

“Laughable?” I asked, my face buried comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“Bad way,” he said, his fingers stroking the sweat from between my shoulder blades.

“Shut up,” I said drowsily.

“Maybe I’m gay after all,” he said, still touching my back with fingers that made me want to go all over again, until I realized what had just happened.

“Hey,” I said, lifting my head. “I told you to shut up.”

His eyes widened as he looked at me, opened his mouth, then shook his head, tapping his lips. 

“You can’t talk now?”

He shook his head again.

“But you did just now,” I said. “After I told you to shut up the first time. I mean, it’s fine,” I said hastily, seeing his smile slip downwards. “It’s great. I was kidding, you know that. You knew that. So you didn’t have to really do what I said. You can talk now.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling again. “Yeah, I knew you were kidding. I thought you were.”

“But you’ve thought I was kidding before, and you still obeyed me,” I pointed out. “Do you think Aphrodite did something? Made the binding a little bit more... reasonable?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe...”

“What?”

He smiled again.

“Maybe I’m getting to know you a little better,” he said.

“Mmm,” I said, putting my head back down and kissing his neck. “I should hope so.”


	13. Chapter Twelve: In which the story ends mid-sentence

In my dream, I was flying again, the way I used to, a crimson-and-azure-and-sunlight streak through the clammy clouds into bright, clean, warm air, my glittering lasso-- the one my brother gave me-- in hand. I woke up missing my brother-- he’s kind of an asshole, but he was pretty good to me, all things considered-- and missing my lasso, and missing flying, and with Ian next to me in the bed, watching me, a serious look on his face.

“Hey,” I said sleepily. “How long was I out?”

“Dunno,” he said. “You don’t have a clock.”

“We tell time by the sun,” I said. “And by this weird gizmo right here.” I held up my wrist, turning the watch face towards him.

He smiled, slightly. “I don’t suppose you could get me one of those.”

“Diana could,” I said. “She brings me things from the mainland, if I ask her. I’ll ask her to get you a watch. And some more clothes. And-- what else do you need? Do you need boy razors, or is there any actual difference?”

“Girl razors are better,” said Ian. “If you don’t mind sharing. So-- I guess-- I’m staying here? I live here now?”

“Oh,” I said, and sat up. “Oh, well-- you don’t-- I thought-- well.”

He didn’t sit up; he just lay there, looking up at me with that same serious expression. I reached out and touched his hair, combing some sweat-stiff strands back from his forehead with my fingers, and he smiled without moving.

“Is that not what you want?” I asked. “I thought-- well, you said--” I tried to remember exactly what he _had_ said. Hadn’t he said he wanted to stay with me? Wasn’t that what we’d told the goddess? I definitely remembered the words _boyfriend_ and _girlfriend_ being bandied about.

“I know,” he said. “I want-- no.” He kept his eyes on me. “I started to say, I want to be with you, but that’s not what I mean. I _am_ with you, Cassie. I’m with you, while you’ll have me. So if you’re here, I’m here. And I’ll-- I guess I’ll try to make myself useful, if there’s a way I can do that here. I’m not as strong as-- anybody here-- but, you know, I can do whatever. Or just be your stay-at-home boyfriend, if that’s what you want. And I’ll try to learn your-- Greek. I guess it would be nice if Diana could bring me some, uh, learning materials, to help with that. Unless you just want to keep translating for me.”

“No,” I said, finally understanding what he meant by _I live here now._. There were a lot of logistics that I hadn’t really thought through. “Of course you should start learning Greek, so you can-- get around. And, yeah, we’ll figure out a job for you too. I’m sure there are plenty of things you can do-- we’ll come up with something you’ll enjoy. And once you can get along in Greek, you can be making friends too. Now that you have the goddess’ countenance, people will be-- easier, with you. More comfortable. Lavinia likes you already, and there’s-- I’m sure there’s lots of other cool people on the island. I’m a little bit of a recluse, but we can change that. I mean--”

He watched me as I hesitated.

“I guess,” I said slowly, “that—well, what you said, at the temple, about how I’m not really—happy—here? I mean, I’m not _un_ happy, it’s not that, but I’ve just—I guess I’ve never really-- settled in, here. I’ve been thinking of it as-- temporary. Even after-- well, all this time. Four years.” Diana always came to visit for my birthday, bringing some silly disposable gift-- a box of candy, a gigantic bunch of flowers, a cake with my name written on it in the kind of unnatural colors you don’t get on Themyscira-- and I’d gotten a weird little shock, last April, to realize I wasn’t a teenager any more. I hadn’t felt like one, exactly, for awhile, but I hadn’t felt like a grown-up either, and it didn’t seem quite right that I could be turning into one no matter how far out of the world I’d retreated. No matter how still I’d been trying to stay.

“But with you here,” I went on, “well, you deserve a real life. As much of one as we can make here, anyway. Are you—okay, so hang on. You said, you said that you’re here _if_ I’m here. Does that mean—do you want to go back? There? Together? Is that what you meant?”

He was quiet for awhile, eyes still on my face, while I waited, feeling oddly frightened. Not that he could make me go back—but it had been so long since I’d even thought about the possibility. Going back to the world. I couldn’t really—think about it. Was that really what he wanted? Why? The world had been even shittier to him than it had been to me.

“I meant—what I said,” he said finally. “If you’re here, I’m here, unless you send me away. But I guess—it’s hard for me to imagine that you’re going to be happy here forever. Or even—for long. You’re not—one of them. And they don’t get you. You’re so funny, and I don’t think they get that. Maybe it doesn’t translate, into Greek, or maybe they just don’t really—laugh, here, the way we do.”

“Maybe you’re just the only one with my same weird sense of humor,” I said, and he smiled.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I don’t think so. And that’s not all. You’re so—fierce, Cassie, you know? You slam that clay down, at the studio, like it’s some kind of supervillain you’re about to tie up with your lasso. And you were so angry, the first time I saw you, at Diana, and then the way you’ve been fighting Hippolyta for me—Cassie, you shouldn’t be stuck here. You should be fighting for real things, important things.”

“More important than you?” I asked, half teasing, and he nodded without smiling.

“Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” he said. “I do. You can’t imagine how much. You’ve saved my life, and—well, it’s yours. Whatever it’s worth. But even if I—start over, with you, even if you’re okay with all that shit in my past—I’m still just—some kid. I’m not a—a superhero, like you, or your—Superboy. Or—anything. I’m just—“ He lifted a hand to gesture vaguely towards himself. 

I reached out and took hold of the raised hand, and when I squeezed it, he squeezed back.

“I didn’t fall in love with Conner because he was Superboy,” I said quietly. “He was just some kid, too. I mean—“ Ian had scoffed, very slightly, but audibly—“I mean, yeah, he had superpowers— and I did then, too, and for all I know, so will you sometime. Now that Diana’s dragged you into the weirdness vortex with the rest of us. It was pretty random, for me—but what I mean is, yeah, Conner, he was fantastic, don’t get me wrong, and he saved the world and all, but he was weird and confused and fucked up, just like us. He wasn’t like Superman. Or maybe he was-- I never really got to know Superman. Maybe that whole perfect compassionate lantern-jawed interstellar Jesus thing is just a front. Maybe he’s just some fucked-up guy, too. I know Diana’s just—well, you know, too, she makes mistakes, she does her best but—oh, Ian, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I guess that—we’re all just some—some random person, you know? Nobody’s that much more awesome than anybody else, not—inherently. Not just because of superpowers. More because of—what we do. How hard we try. And by that measure, you’re like five billion times more awesome than I am. I haven’t done shit for the last four years, except make some crockery, and learn how to curse in classical Greek. You’ve been surviving, and getting free, and clean, and—“ I took a deep breath. “What I’m saying, Ian, is, you’re really sweet to say all this about how I’m special and I don’t belong here, but I haven’t done anything to prove otherwise, since Conner died. Not until you came along. And now—whether we end up staying here or not, and don’t think I’m not considering what you’ve said, either—but either way, just having you here with me is—more of a life than I’ve had for years. So. All that about how I’m so special and you’re just nothing, that’s not—that’s bullshit, okay. Just so you know.”

He smiled, slowly, and drew my hand down towards his lips to kiss it. Then he sat up and reached out to pull me close, kissing me on the lips. I kissed back, surprised and thrilled—he’d never taken so much initiative with me, he’d never been so _bold_ \-- and he threaded his hand up into my hair, sending shivers down my spine. 

When he finally pulled away, we were both flushed and breathless and smiling, which I guess is kind of the ideal end result of a kiss.

“It’s probably a good thing I’ve never had a girlfriend before,” he said. “Because I don’t think any of the, uh, expertise would carry over. I mean, all I know is you take girls to movies, and buy them jewelry, and dinner, and-- oh!”

“What oh?” I asked, startled by his sudden exclamation.

“Can I cook for you?”

I stared at him. “You can cook?”

“I never have before,” he said, “but let’s face it, I couldn’t possibly be worse at it than you.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

He grinned. “Look, Cassie, you wouldn’t want me to feel like I had to lie to you, just because I’m under a binding of obedience that punishes me with unspeakable agony if I’m physically unable to comply with your most random and whimsical order. Would you?”

I squinted at him. “No. I wouldn’t. But there’s such a thing as tact.”

“I’ve _been_ tactful,” he said. “I think we’re past tactful at this point, aren’t we? Cassie, I owe you my life, and my safety, and—all this—“ he gestured again, this time encompassing both of us, and the bed— “and you’re beautiful and sexy and funny and kind and currently my favorite person in the universe, but your cooking is horrible. It’s _ridiculously_ horrible. You ruin things a person wouldn’t think it was even possible to ruin, with your cooking. I would rather eat raw eggs than your disgusting slimy-and-burned-at-the-same-time eggs. So can I please—oh, you could invite your friend Lavinia over and let her teach me! She’d teach me, right? Those things she made were fabulous.”

“Sure,” I said, feeling slightly dazed, and not just by the grave insults to my cooking. Ian seemed—excited. Not just not-scared, not even just hopeful. It couldn’t just be the prospect of edible food in his future, although I couldn’t deny that was a thing to be excited about. But that wasn’t all. I knew, because I was feeling it, too, now, a feeling like when the goddess arrived, except without the shadow of knowing how soon she’d be gone again. A feeling like—from before I moved here. I remembered it from Christmas, from birthdays, from when I first started dating Conner, from when I first got my new powers and learned to fly. I remembered now, because I was feeling it again-- the way it filled me up, bubbly and giddy, everything that could possibly happen next happening now inside me.

We were together, Ian and me, and there was no telling what might happen.

“This is my new mission,” he was saying. “To become such an awesome cook that you’ll never break up with me, because you won’t be able to stand going back to your own shitty cooking after seeing how much better it can be.”

I started to smile, and realized I was already smiling, so I ended up smiling big enough to hurt my cheeks. “I could always get Lavinia to teach _me_ to cook.”

“You could have done that anytime.”

“I never cared enough to.”

“Well, then I’ll be in charge of caring what we eat,” he said. “Because I refuse to starve to death, or live off Lavinia’s charity forever. And it’s not like we can just order a pizza.”

“Oh, God, pizza,” I said. “I almost forgot about pizza. I don’t guess Diana could bring us a delivery pizza from the mainland. It would get cold in the stratosphere, right?”

“I’ll learn to make pizza,” said Ian confidently. “How hard can it be? Flour, tomatoes, cheese. Olives. There are olives in your kitchen right now. I saw them earlier.” 

“Still, it won’t be the same, without all those weird artificial ingredients they put in it,” I said. “Monosodium glutamate. Additives. All that stuff that makes it good.”

“It won’t be the same,” Ian agreed. “But it’ll be good. Trust me.”

And he kissed me again.

 

Diana, when she finally got back, managed to be simultaneously appalled and smug. You wouldn’t think that would be possible, but she’s an expert in both, so I guess it was just a matter of time before she figured out how to combine them.

“You called me crazy for bringing him here,” she said in English, hands on semi-divine hips, “and now he is your _boyfriend_?”

“Yeah, well, long story,” I said. “And anyway, the goddess gave her sanction, so mind your own beeswax.”

“Ms.—Ms. Prince?” said Ian, and she turned to him in surprise. I was a little surprised too. “I—um—I just wanted to thank you, for bringing me here. I don’t think I did, before. I was kind of—disoriented—and everybody seemed so mad—but, um, Cassie’s been really—kind—and I met your goddess, and she was—“

“You met Aphrodite?” she demanded, and he flinched a little and moved a fraction closer to me. I took his hand in mine, and he relaxed.

“Yeah,” he said. “She was—she liked me.” He looked at me, and I nodded, smiling. He smiled back, and turned back to Diana. “She even spoke English to me.”

Diana looked at me, and I nodded again.

“King James-type English,” I said. “It was pretty surreal. But yeah. She called us her dear children. She’s all about us being together. Diana, you remember what she said about me and Conner, when you first brought me here?”

“Oh,” she said, softly. “Oh, Cassie. Yes, I do.”

I don’t know what it was about the way she said that—maybe it was just the confirmation that she did remember, that it had meant something to someone other than me and the goddess, but I felt my mouth twisting up like it did when I was a kid and I wanted my mommy and then my mommy came and picked me up. Diana saw it, and she held out her arms to me, and I let go of Ian and went to her, burying my face against her chest. It wasn’t even uncomfortable, the way it had been since we ended our brief and probably ill-advised affair; it was just like putting my head up against the softest part of my mom, when I was little and I needed somebody bigger, and soft, to bury myself against. Her strong arms went around me, and held me close for a little while, before I squirmed and she let me go.

“Anyway,” I said, stepping back and brushing at my tears, embarrassed now. “She—you know how it is. She approved. So it’s okay.”

“Well,” said Diana, glancing from me to Ian and back again. “I cannot say that this is what I envisioned, when I brought Etta’s son here. Or when I brought you here, either, Cassie. This is—I come here when I seek—safety. Sanctuary. But sanctuary is not stasis. I should not be surprised when the unexpected happens here, in my absence.”

“I shouldn’t either,” I said, “but I know what you mean. It’s weird. But—here we are.”

She looked at me, speculatively, and then reached out and touched Ian’s cheek. He shuddered faintly, but kept his eyes on her face, while I watched them both. 

“Child,” she said, “are you satisfied with your lot? Are you happy? Are you afraid?”

He looked at her for a minute, and then suddenly, brilliantly, smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “All of those.”

Diana looked startled, and then smiled, too.

“Well,” she said. “As I understand human life—very well.”

We were all quiet, for a little while, and then I said, “Diana, we have a list for you. For next time. Ian needs clothes, and a watch, and a lexicon, and maybe a copy and a translation of Xenophon’s Anabasis? That’s what we read in AP Greek, my junior year. And some cookbooks. Do you think you could--”


End file.
